Lust
by Tien Riu
Summary: [Yaoi AyaxYouji] [semi-AU] Aya and Youji are partners on a mission: tropical island, a mad scientist and information gathering! Life's good. Except for the bit where he gets to play the part of Aya's flamboyant, impotent lover. Whoops?
1. Prologue

Lust

By Tien Riu

====================================================================

Disclaimer: 

Weiss Kreuz and all characters do not belong to me.  Plot (what little there is of it ^_^) and depiction of characters are mine.  

C&C, R&R and any other derivation there of including flames will be appreciated.  

"Lust" is the first of three Weiss Kreuz stories that are determinedly yaoi (that means homosexual relationships for the initiated) and (unfortunately, since I was aiming for a PWP at the start and failed miserable) plot-driven.  For those who are interested, "Do you believe in sin?" is a short background story to this series - however, you don't need to read it to understand anything that happens.  

=====================================================================

Prologue

_Youji_

      "Lust."

It took me several seconds to realise that the word coming from innocent and young Omi's lips was sex-related.  It took me several more to actually believe that last night's overindulgence hadn't killed enough brain cells to make hallucinations a true possibility.

   "What?"

Omi pursed his mouth, blue eyes flickering with impatience - and looked young, very, very young, "Lust."  He repeated, and stood there, staring at me as if expecting some response.

   "Well yes, I do suffer from lust on occasion - but not at this particular moment."  I arched an eyebrow, staring down at him, "Use more words, Omittchi.  I had a late night, early morning and the coffee maker's broken."

   "Ever considered instant, Yotan?"  Ken called as he wobbled past with a stack of black pots.

I resisted the urge to trip him after that horrendous suggestion - _instant_ should never enter anybody's vocabulary. 

Omi was glaring at me, large blue eyes filled with ire - and making him look about as dangerous as a cherub with a bow and arrow.  Considering he's almost as deadly with projectiles as he is with a keyboard and a broadband connection, that particular mental image made a strange sort of sense.

   "Lust, Youji."  He repeated, "Don't you remember?"

I sighed, "Omi - my brain isn't working fast enough for this -"

   "Does it ever?"  Ken - on the way back from wherever he stacked the pots.

   "Shut up Ken-Ken."  I snapped, "What's lust got to do with anything Omi?"

   "With you, Yotan?"  Ken wobbled past again, juggling two pots of flowers, "Everything I'd assume."

    Aya was not happy about finding the hibiscus carcass lying on the newly mopped floor amidst the broken potshards.  I didn't bother to point out that it could have been worse - Omi might have been slower and then the orchids would have been lying on the floor too.

      As it turned out, 'Lust' was the code-name Manx - in her strange and possibly warped mind - had chosen to name the latest mission Kritiker's analysts had devised.  

    The reason why I didn't recognise it was because Manx had arrived, without notice, yesterday night, while I had been out on my date with the delectable Jay Bennett - an American working for a year in Japan and desperately happy to find somebody who could speak fluent English.

    Which, it seems, was part of the reason why I ended up working on 'Lust'.  The other part was that there was, literally, nobody else.  

      The mission was riddled with problems from the beginning.

   To begin with, Omi was Weiss' best information operative - nobody was better at doing information gathering than Omittchi.  Ken usually backed him, and thus, had become the best amongst us at maintaining deep cover.  Something about the innocence the two of them emanate I guess.  Nobody ever suspected either of them in the eight missions previous to this that required those particular talents.  Before Aya arrived, and Weiss qualified for killing missions more regularly, the majority of the work Omi and Ken got were deep cover work.  

    That was half the reason why they worked together - the other was the silent agreement between Omi and me to keep Ken and Aya separated as much as possible since that first memorable meeting between the two of them that ended with Aya in my bed.

    Unfortunately, the mission required deep under cover for a period of no less than two months.  Omi had mid-year exams; which left Aya, the only other Weiss operative who was trained in information retrieval (or hacking, as we all like to call it).  Ken, who could do the figurative maths as well as the rest of us, promptly refused the mission.  Which left me.  And Aya.  Working together.

    At the time, it didn't seem such a terrible idea.  

    Just another mission. 

    Which goes to show that some days, the sound of trickling water is really a sliding avalanche of rocks.

      Omi finished running me through the mission details during the quiet time (between 1:07 and 3:15 in the afternoon - don't ask me why it's so precise, I don't know, though my current theory is that one of the school girls has perfected speed-of-light travel).  I found out about the deep-cover part while I was watering the orchids, the fact that Aya was my partner while I cleared the arrangement bench for use, and what that deep-cover involved, unfortunately, while I was cutting the flowers to go into the arrangement.

      "What?!" 

Or at least I would have yelled that if I hadn't been sucking the blood from the cut on my finger when Omi had spoken.  Instead, I jerked upright and stared at him, my sunglasses sliding completely off my nose, landing on the just-mopped brilliance of the Koneko floor.  It clattered, drawing the attention of Ken - who caught my eye, grinned cheerfully, and went back to whatever it was he was doing.  

    The bastard - now that I think of it, he wasn't scheduled to work that day, he just 'decided to help'.

    "You've got to be kidding."  (actually it came out more like 'You'd god t'a be kibbin''  but you get the picture) I was staring at Omi, the last vestiges of my composure figuratively dangling around my legs in the shock. 

I swear, that kid has a sadistic sense of humour under all that innocence.  

"Tell me you're kidding."  I said, "This is some sort of joke right?"

Omi shook his head, and actually grinned, "Nope.  You and Aya - deep cover, two months.  Seems about right to me."  He said, "Aya accepted, Ken said no, I can't - so that means you have to go in."

   "I get that bit.  It's the part where we're supposed to be gay lovers that I want clarification on."  I bit out, "That part's the joke right?"

   "Nope."  I never thought I'd find a day when Omi's 'cheery' sent cold shivers down my spine, "It's all in the mission briefs."

   "Which I didn't read."

   "Which you didn't read.  Even though -"  he paused, looking at me expectantly.

The ball, to use a sports metaphor, was completely in his court, and I was locked outside.  

    Without any equipment.  

    And naked.  

    I sighed.  I had obviously done something truly despicable if little Omittchi wanted this much pain and suffering from me.  So, like a man, I'd have to take my shots - though if Ken smirked at me one more time, his bugnucks were going to find somewhere new to be sheathed in.  

   "Even though they were waiting for me when I got home -"

   "And your shift didn't start until -?"  Omi prompted.

   "Didn't start until 11."  I finished. 

He beamed at me, "Do you want me to give you a synopsis, Yo-tan?"

   "Yes.  Why not? It can't get any worse.  Surely."

    Omi might not do sarcasm very well, but he had irony down pat.

      As it turned out, the mission also included several other pertinent facts, starting with the reason why Kritiker was using Weiss operatives for an information-gathering mission.

    Ikudo Tamahino, head of Research and Development for Telco Org, ran a small research facility situated on a small tropical island somewhere in the Pacific Ocean.  His research involved male impotency.  (Oh but it gets better)

    Couples - both heterosexual and homosexual, although, understandably, only couples that involved a male at some point were involved - were sourced from various countries, including Japan, and paid large amounts of money to travel to the tropical island in the Pacific.  Since it sounded - and as far as the authorities knew, amounted to - a free vacation in a tropical locale, most couples agreed willingly.

    Two months ago, one of Kritiker's analyst teams had discovered several discrepancies in Edo Incorporated, a subsidiary of Telco Org.  There wasn't enough information, but it was enough to make Persia suspicious of precisely what Tamahino was researching on his little island.  The suspicions were basically confirmed and underlined several times when the two teams sent to the island vanished.  The last managed one data packet before contact was lost - Kritiker believes that Tamahino is creating mind-altering drugs for Telco Org.  Specifically, creating mind-altering drugs intended for use to create the 'perfect soldier'.  (As if that hasn't been attempted before)

    The mission objectives were to find out the truth.  And if, Tamahino was creating mind-altering drugs and using the couples on the island as human guinea pigs, Weiss' target became Tamahino.  The only fail-safe was that before assassinating Tamahino, we would have to alert Manx on our findings - on the off chance we failed and another team had to be sent in.  It went without saying that the research findings would be destroyed, as would the facilities on Tamahino's island.

    Weiss hadn't been Kritiker's first choice, but a last minute injury - or so Manx had indicated, according to Omi - had made us their only choice.

    And because Omi had exams, it would be Aya and me flying to the little Pacific island to live in close quarters for a period of no less than two months.  But it wasn't the 'gay' couple part of the description that had me in a cold sweat.  It was the fact that 'my' part of the mission was to be the flamboyant, attention-gathering, impotent lover.  

    Did I mention 'impotent'? 


	2. Inherent Problems on One of those Days

Lust

By Tien Riu

====================================================================

Disclaimer: 

Weiss Kreuz and all characters do not belong to me.  Plot (what little there is of it ^_^) and depiction of characters are mine.  

C&C, R&R and any other derivation there of including flames will be appreciated.  

"Lust" is the first of three Weiss Kreuz stories that are determinedly yaoi (that means homosexual relationships for the initiated) and (unfortunately, since I was aiming for a PWP at the start and failed miserable) plot-driven.  For those who are interested, "Do you believe in sin?" is a short background story to this series - however, you don't need to read it to understand anything that happens.  

=====================================================================

=================================================================

Inherent Problems on One of those days

=================================================================

_Aya_

      There were inherent problems with the mission from the beginning.  Aya frowned as he re-read through the mission descriptions.  

    It was obvious that the Kritiker analysts had created the deep cover personalities with Omi and Ken in mind and, when it became obvious that Omi - and thus Ken - would be unable to take the missions, it had been quickly - and roughly - recreated for him and Youji.

    _Very roughly._

    He ran his finger across one phrase in particular, mentally reading it once more - as if to be sure it was no misunderstanding: _"Youji's devoted lover, Aya - a silent and serious young man who is still very much in love with partner despite the former's sexual problems."_

    All undercover missions required a degree of acting - it was rare however that Kritiker's analysts required _this_ much acting.  _And it's usually Omi and Ken who have parts with these much depth._  He admitted silently to himself.  Since he had joined Weiss, his parts in missions had rarely required more than a couple of casual conversations.  Typically, he entered the target's organisation as another hired killer.

    "Hey."

Aya didn't look up – of the three assassins that made up his team, only Kudou was able to make the skin down his spine shiver.  In another lifetime, when he was another person with another name, he would have called it chemistry or romance or some other childish, hopeful word.  But that had been before all this started.

   "Have you read the mission report?"  Aya asked, keeping his inflexion flat.

   "Of course not."  Kudou leapt over the back of the couch, dropping down onto the cushions with a slight thump, the air of his passage making his pony tail bounce, and stretched his long legs underneath the table, "But Omi gave me the synopsis."  He said defensively, "I'll read them now."  He added with a grin, eyes hidden beneath the dark of his sunglasses, "When do we leave?"

   "Tonight."  Aya said; by now used to Kudou's strangely inefficient method of work – and yet, the man was professional during missions.

    _He irritates you.  Either that or you notice everything about him and pretend you notice because he irritates you._

    "Tonight?!"  Kudou exclaimed, "Why so soon?"  he made a fake mew of petulance, "I had a date tomorrow with Jay –"

   "Kritiker wants to update our weapons for the mission."  

   "Update our weapons?"

   "Your watch detracts from the persona you will assume."  

Kudou stared at him, Aya could feel his gaze, a hot sensation across the side of his face.  He ducked his head, allowing his hair to slide down, and pretended to read the mission report in his hands.  

    _You notice a lot about him._

Kudou leaned back, throwing his arms across the back of the couch, "So basically Kritiker wants us to go to some safe house so they can comment on whether or not my watch matches the rest of my wardrobe?"  he said, and chuckled, "Who said a Rolex goes with everything?"  he paused, "What about you? No way you can carry your katana through airport security without a lot of paperwork."  

Aya paused, then continued, "Kritiker will be providing me with a sakaba-to."

    That irritated him.  Sakaba-to – they were ceremonial swords or practise swords.  Meant for practise or display, and blunted on the cutting edge to ensure the right to carry them were not abused.  It was a matter of honour that when carrying a sakaba-to, the swordsman did not kill.  But the sword Kritiker would give him would be sakaba-to in name alone.  The flip side – the opposite side of the sword – would be as sharp as the katana sitting in his room.  

   "Sakaba-to?"  Kudou whistled – and at this at least, Aya could not fault how quickly his mind worked, "I assume they'll make sure you can use it the wrong way with no problems."  A slight inclination of the head was all that was required, no speech at this question.

There was silence, Aya looked up, and caught the flash of Kudou's smile.

   "Our very own Rurouni Kenshin."  He murmured, "Somebody at Kritiker has been watching too much anime."  At Aya's continual silence he sighed, a breath of air that flittered the edges of Aya's hair.

    "Oh come on Aya – if we're supposed to be lovers you're going to have to melt a little bit.  There's no way anybody will be fooled by either our acting if you don't at least smile at my jokes – or something!"  he said in exasperation.

    Kudou continued speaking, but Aya had stopped listening, the words repeating in his head as if something in his subconscious had caught the phrase and found it pleasing to hear.  Or worse.

    _Supposed to be lovers.  .  .  _

    Flesh to flesh – shared heat and breath, warm against his skin.  The sound of silk rasping and smooth, and eyes – glowing in the dark –

    Aya shook his head.  _Foolish – all of this is foolish.  It's an act.  And besides – Kudou is –_

    "Aya."

Aya blinked and looked up to stare at Kudou, sunglasses still hiding his eyes, "What?"

Kudou nodded to the paper Aya was holding, "I'm going to need to read those character profiles too, some day."  He said.

Aya handed the paper over silently and stood up, "Be ready by six."  He said and walked out of the room.

    Walked out of the room and feelings and desires he didn't want to remember.  Wasn't allowed to remember.

    _You promised you would wait for her to wake up before you continued your life.  Step by step, together – remember? Like it's always been.  Not by yourself.  Never by yourself._

    _Liar._

_Youji _

      I don't understand Aya.  

    I doubt I ever will.  You would think somebody who would make even a saint stand up tall and sizzle would acknowledge some of the heat he brings out in others.  But not Aya.  It's as if he's got a layer of ice from five inches above his skin and down all the way to the centre.

    And the worse bit is that between that creamy pale of that skin and the extraordinary violet of his eyes, you start getting the urge to see if you can melt it.  

    Like I said, Aya could make a saint sit up and pay attention.  And I have never been a saint.  

    I stare at the sheets of paper spread out on the table.  In piles of course, arranged in logical order of required reading.  Aya is methodical, logical and above all, cold.  

    And yet – 

    _Give up Kudou.  The day you get Aya in your bed is the day he's out cold from fighting with Ken – again._

    Nobody knows this – and never will if this fixation of mine will fade like all good fixations should - but he's the reason I keep those black silk sheets.  Despite the fact that they're murder to laundry, the amount of ribbing Ken gives me about them and the fact that bringing a girl back to my bedroom has become too much of a security risk I keep them.  And the reason? 

    For the sake of my reputation – and my pride – it'll never pass my lips.  But I keep them not for sex – but for the memory.  

    He glowed, that morning, while the sun slowly streamed through the mist and entered via the streaked glass of my window.  Against black silk, with that hair, and that skin, he glowed.  

    Throwing out the black silk would have been sacrilegious after seeing that.  

    Asuka always said I was a fool – guess she was right.  How else can I explain lusting after a man who doesn't look like he relaxes long enough to have an erection?

    Especially when I can't explain why I'm lusting after him in the first place.  He isn't even my type.  If I have a type.  Asuka once explained it to me.  She figured I was probably ten percent gay, and ninety percent straight.  Which, she added with a laugh, made me one hundred percent bisexual.  

    How she came up with those figures are beyond me – especially since my one and only experience with a male was my first kiss.  

    Age eighteen if you would believe.  Yes, Youji Kudou wasn't always a slut, ready and willing for any beautiful woman's pleasure.  

    At one stage, I was even virginal.  

    Try saying that with a straight face.  Try thinking it without breaking into hysterical laughter – Omi wonders enough about my sanity or at least state of health, the last thing he needs is to wonder if I've cracked and need a nice white suit with long arms.  

      But contemplating my psychological issues is the job of Kritiker's psychologists.  Till they figure I belong in a white jacket with nice long sleeves and buckles, I do what I'm best at.  Killing people.

    At least there's the possibility I won't be killing anybody during this mission.  Hey – maybe Tamahino is doing a good deed for the future of mankind and really looking for a cure to male impotency.  .  .

    Well, at least I'll get a new wardrobe out of this.

    The piles of paper shift as somebody upstairs – possibly Omi – finishes locking up the store and close the door leading to the corridor.  Other than the dull light from the low voltage light bulb nobody ever thinks to replace with something that produces a brighter glow, I'm alone.

    Youji Kudou, alone with a stack of paper and several glossy pictures of pretty men.  

    And if I were the sort to get turned on by pictures rather than the real thing, I'd be happy, hot and bothered on the couch.  

    Visions of the delectable Jay Bennett float through my mind as I pull another stack of papers over and start reading.  

    It's going to be another one of _those_ days.   


	3. The best time of day who would have tho...

Lust

By Tien Riu

====================================================================

Disclaimer: 

Weiss Kreuz and all characters do not belong to me.  Plot (what little there is of it ^_^) and depiction of characters are mine.  

C&C, R&R and any other derivation there of including flames will be appreciated.  

"Lust" is the first of three Weiss Kreuz stories that are determinedly yaoi (that means homosexual relationships for the initiated) and (unfortunately, since I was aiming for a PWP at the start and failed miserable) plot-driven.  For those who are interested, "Do you believe in sin?" is a short background story to this series - however, you don't need to read it to understand anything that happens.  

=====================================================================

=================================================================

The best time of day - who would have thought? =================================================================

_Omi_

      The best time of day, in Omi's opinion, was the end.  As winter drew closer, closing time saw the slow gold of sunset streaming through the glass windows.  

    Omi liked to delay pulling down the shutters; instead, after the last of the customers were sent with their purchases, he would clean up quickly, then sit on the counter and stare out the windows.  Across the road, between 'Sumeko's Sushi' and 'Kiki's Laundromat', was an empty patch of sky, and sometimes, if it was clear, all he would see was blue - and he could pretend he was watching the sunset across the ocean.

    _If Youji or Ken knew what I was thinking.  .  ._  Omi hid a smile as he put away the last ball of string and closed the lid of the box, _I'd never hear the end of it.  The whole 'do you want a bedtime story' jokes will come up again._  

    The problem with being the youngest member in the team was that the others didn't know how to treat him.  It had been worse before Aya had arrived - especially during that (thankfully) short period when Youji had been designated his legal guardian for the sake of his cover story.  

    _And thank gods that'll never happen again._  Omi muffled a shudder, closing the door to the corridor leading to the mission room below.  _I won't even exchange the 'porn on the internet' jokes for Youji in guardian mode._  The playboy had been strangely - insistent on his duties.

    _Homework checks, sign all notes.  Even check up on my homework.  It was like having a father -!_

    Okay - so sometimes he missed that sense of normality that whole period had brought.

    Ken had arrived shortly before Omi had turned sixteen and been declared an emancipated minor by the courts - after that, the atmosphere had shifted from father and son to brothers.  _Yup - that's us.  Youji's the feckless older brother who likes nothing better than womanising and sleeping in.  Ken's the clumsy middle child who's dragged out clubbing -_ Well, okay only once, but that counted surely - _and still allows himself to be pulled into silly children's games._  Although beating Ken at Counter Strike five times in a row had stopped that too.  _And me? I'm the baby brother._

_    And why does that seem so depressing?_

    Omi sighed and perched on the edge of the counter, staring out of the window.  They had closed early today - Aya and Youji would be leaving early for Kritiker's safe house and more mission briefs - so the sunset was still an hour or so away.  

    Still, there was a peace in the store; it emanated from the silence, mingled with the light fragrance wafting from the greenery bins.  It was almost as if the spirits of the flowers, although dead, had forgotten briefly, and opened to the last rays of the sun.

    _Peace._

      The corridor door slammed against the wall as Youji ran into the store; Omi jumped.

   "Y-Youji-kun?"

Youji ran a hand through his hair, oak-coloured strands tinged gold in the light of the sun; he grinned as he slid his sunglasses up his nose, "I'm going upstairs to pack -"

   "B-but you're not leaving till six -?"  

Omi had watched Youji packed for a three-week mission an hour before they had to leave.  And that had been when he had prepared.

   "Yeah - but I want to go apologise to Jay for leaving just as our relationship started."  Youji grinned, "I'll load Seven up before I leave so tell Aya I'll be back by six!"  He paused, one foot through the door leading to their apartments, "Oh and Omiitchi,"  he drawled.

Omi sighed, "I know, I know - don't start dating or have a crush on any girls till you come back so you can give me advice."  He said.

Youji grinned, "I was going to say make sure to water Ken's cactus or it'd die, desert conditions or not - but yeah that too."  He left in a wave of cologne and expectations.

    Omi sighed, returning to his perch.  It seemed strange that of all of the three older men, Aya alone treated him, if not like an adult, then as less than a child.  

  


_Ken_

      Some days, Ken almost believed Case had been right, and there was truly some higher being floating on some cloud high overhead, watching over him.  

    _On other days - I _know _that there is somebody watching me.  And he's laughing._  

    Ken sighed, then froze, plastering himself against the branch and hoping nobody would see the telltale flutter of leaves.  Below, the crowd of schoolgirls continued chattering as they cheerfully searched for him.  _Why did I climb the tree? Five minutes - it'd have taken five minutes for me to disentangle myself after they'd finish groping me._  

    "Did you see him?"  one girl - he vaguely recognised her as a regular squealer from the store.

   "No!"  her friend, from his viewpoint, was made up entirely of a perky ponytail, "I swear, he was here - I mean, Ken-Ken -"

And they moved far enough away to be out of earshot.  Ken relaxed against the branch.  _This must be why Omi runs back home from school every day, Youji goes clubbing on the other side of the city and Aya -_  his thoughts derailed.  Aya didn't do anything as far as he could tell except turn up for his shifts.

    _Ah well - from now on, play soccer at the park near the kindergarten._  Ken decided, _Now all I have to figure out is how to get down from here._  

    He carefully raised himself to a half-crouch, balancing on the branch.  _At least I'm not going to fall off and make a fool of myself._  If nothing else, his balance skills had improved since he had joined Weiss.  _Now - how to get down there?_ He peered through the leaves, and frowned, catching sight of a brilliant shade of red - _What the -?_

    For several seconds, he was almost sure Aya was standing underneath the tree - but the shade of red was too bright.  Ken leaned down, curiosity piqued.

    And his breath caught.

    _Youji? What's he doing there?_

    Youji walked across the field, hair glinting in the sunlight as he walked under the tree and came to a halt directly underneath, in front of the red haired man.

    "Hey."  Youji said.

   "You're late."

   "Sorry."  From up here, Ken could only tell that Youji was tilting his head up - he was shorter than the red haired man.

   "So - we still heading out?"

   "Can't.  Work problems."

   "At the flower store?"

   "What can I say? Flowers are harder than they look."  The red haired man snorted, "You have such a low sense of humour."  Youji murmured as he leaned in and added something too soft for Ken to hear.

The red haired man laughed, roughly, "I'm flying back to America tonight."

   "I know.  Your friend told me when I picked up your message."  Youji paused, "Any reasons why? Or am I so good you need to leave the country to get it better?"  the last was said in an oddly tilted voice that Ken realised was Youji's version of humorous sarcasm.

   "Family problems."  The red head paused, "So how will we say goodbye?"

Youji shrugged, "Waving and a hug?"

The red head chuckled, and put a hand on Youji's chest, "Hugging at least."  There was the sound of cloth rubbing against cloth, the rasp of something Ken couldn't quite decipher, then the red head chuckled again, "Or at least some close approximation there-of."

   "I vote close approximation."  Youji husked, "Come on - lets go somewhere more private."

   "Not into public displays?"

   "Not today."  

They left, wandering away, not quite touching but definitely standing next to each other.

_    Well who would have thought?_


	4. Damn his punctuality it'll always just ...

Do you believe in sin?

By Tien Riu

====================================================================

Disclaimer: 

Weiss Kreuz and all characters do not belong to me.  Plot (what little there is of it ^_^) and depiction of characters are mine.  

C&C, R&R and any other derivation there of including flames will be appreciated.  

"Do you believe in sin?" is, potentially, a prequel/short/background to a trilogy of Weiss Kreuz stories (Aya x Youji, yaoi, plot-related).  

Extra Note: Rating [R] is for future chapters, but I'm not lowering it down to PG-13 simply because it seems awful to do something like that to readers.  Also - it feels like cheating since Fanfiction.net has just put G - PG-13 as the default view rating.

=====================================================================

=================================================================

Damn his punctuality - it'll always just be an act

=================================================================

_Youji_

      Aya is waiting for me when I get back to Koneko - at five minutes past six damn his punctuality.  He doesn't do something as obvious as glare at me.  Or do that half mope, half guilt-trip stare that Omi has perfected so well in the past two years of our acquaintance.

    Nothing from Aya except a grunt of acknowledgement that I existed and had appeared - and then he slid behind the wheel of - _My car!_

    "You can't think you're going to drive."

Nothing.

   "No - I'm serious.  You can't think you're going to drive Seven."

Still nothing.  I glare at him through the window of the driver's seat.

   "Aya."

He turns finally, staring at me, violet eyes unreadable.  Be still my heart, the statue speaks, "Get in the car Youji."

   "_My_ car."

   "You were late."

And that, as they say, was that.

    If it had been Ken, I would have dragged him out of that car, and we would have been kicking dust and throwing punches by now.  Aya - well, I _could_ do the same thing to Aya.  

    The thing is - the thing is - 

    The thing is that I'm fairly sure Ken would stop short of killing me.  Aya however.  .  .  

    Who would win in a fight with Aya? It is a question that I save for the longer stakeouts when the most interesting remark it's possible to get from Aya is 'be quiet'.  

    Ken is the strongest amongst us, I am the most versatile.  Aya, the sword fighter, by definition of his forms, is light, quick and slight of build.  Except for Omi, in close quarters, with no weapons, you would think that he would at least get his composure mussed.  

    Except - there's something about the way he moves.

    That slow slink, the tilt of his hips, the way he holds himself - it speaks of something.  .  .  Else.  

    And trust me, in the past six months I've known him, I've become an expert on the way he moves.  It's not just sexy - it's controlled.  Every move, like steel wrapped in silk.  I would start comparing him to a leopard in a zoo, but that would be clichéd - and besides, visions of Aya naked in a cage is possibly not what I need to be imagining while I'm sitting next to him.  

    The only time I've seen him look less than controlled was the first day I met him - after Ken knocked him out.

    Which, I might add, was the first and only time Ken has managed that feat.  Even in our informal sparring sessions - or at least the last one we had before Ken accidentally punched a hole through the wall and Aya shattered several windows - the two were evenly matched at best.  

    Okay I lie - the first time they sparred, Aya threw Ken across the room.  And I mean that literally.  The second time, Ken didn't last more than thirty-five seconds and three milliseconds (Omi was timing it).  The third time left the wall with a hole, broken glass shards for all of us to clean up and black plastic over the windows of the Koneko's attic for the past four months. 

    There is nothing more humiliating than being a male and knowing that posturing will only get your ass whipped.

      Especially when _he_ is unlikely to break more than a light sweat.

      I slide into the passenger seat, slammed the door shut and glared at Aya, "Fine.  But _one_ scratch - just _one_ -"  

He doesn't look at me as he turns the ignition key and the trip continues in that way - silent and filled with brooding.  

    Well, brooding on my part.  Aya was just silent - no anger, no regret.  Nothing.  I might as well have not existed.  

    Being ignored has always given me urges to do things like strip, lean over and start nuzzling him.  

    I wonder if he'd notice me _then_.  .  .

    Probably not.

      Being around Aya must be good for keeping my ego deflated if nothing else.

_Aya_

      Aya put the car into park and stared at the manor in front of them.  Kritiker had safe houses scattered all over Japan; operatives who required further debriefing than their contacts could safely provide were directed there.

    He had expected a place that was secluded, far from neighbours.  He had not expected a mansion.

    _Homesick?_  A voice jeered quietly at the back of his head as he opened the car door and reached over to lift his bag with him.  _Not homesick.  Ran Fujimiya is dead and Aya Fujimiya has no home._  

    "Woah.  We need to ask for a pay rise."  Kudou commented, looking upwards, "Or at least better quarters."  He slung his bag over his shoulder and walked up to the grand sweep of the entranceway, "Do you think we should knock Aya -?"  he turned, frowning when he realised Aya was still standing by the car, "Aya?"

Aya startled, and felt heat rise to his cheeks; Kudou was staring at him, one eyebrow arched.  _Stop being melodramatic fool - this is a mission.  Like any other mission._  

    He shifted the weight of his bag and followed Kudou up the stairs, ignoring the older man's tilted questioning expression.  __

_    This is the first mission where Youji gets to be your lover.  .  ._  the snide voice murmured quietly, _Even if it's all an act - there's going to be close contact.  Hugging.  Hand holding.  Kissing.  .  .  Holding him till you couldn't slide a paper between the both of your bodies.  What happens then, A~ya?_

    A shiver went down his spine; he could smell the other's cologne - fresh and edged with a crisp that reminded him of fresh mint and mornings.  _You're delusional Fujimiya - Kudou and mornings are as likely as Kudou and -_

    He stopped his thoughts, gritting his teeth - and realised he was glaring at Youji, who was staring at him, eyes wide beneath the light tints of his sunglasses.

    Despite the fact that the last rays of the sun had long slid beneath the horizon half an hour ago.

    "What? Lipstick on my teeth?"  Youji asked, grinning as he flipped his sunglasses off and tucked them into his pocket, "What did I do wrong _this_ time Aya?"  he added, arching another eyebrow.

Aya turned to the door and pressed the doorbell - the doors had soundproofing, he noted.  

   "You're going to have to talk to me at some point y'know."  Youji said quietly.

There was something different about the way he spoke.  Aya realised it almost before he turned to stare at Youji; the tinge of laughter that always accompanied everything he said was gone, as effectively wiped as mist before morning sun.

   "We're supposed to be lovers."  Youji continued, "And even if we don't do the down and dirty, there's going to be some form of public displays of affection.  Kissing, hugging, hand holding.  A smile or two at least, god held us."  He added, the lilt returning.

    Aya flinched, more because the words echoed his thoughts than from the meaning.  _You're going to have to ask him to teach you how to act, Aya.  You know that don't you Aya.  Ask Youji Kudou, the playboy lover, how to hold hands.  How to sigh against his skin as he kisses you.  When to moan.  When to take off his clothes, when he can take yours off.  _

_    I know how to do that.  I don't need help or tutelage._  

_    What do you know of public displays of affection A~ya?_  The voice whispered quietly, _Born on your sister's hospital bed - you're barely two years old in experience.  All you know is death and killing.  _

    _That's not true._  He silently protested to himself.

    _But Ran is dead.  In Aya's place.  Remember? You don't know - you don't know and it's all fakery.  All you have is the act - when to sigh, when to groan, when to moan and arch, when to beg him to keep going - because you won't feel anything will you, A~ya.  You're ice - you won't feel anything, no matter what he does, so it's all an act.  Ice - ice - nothing but ice._

    "Aya? Aya?" 

Aya blinked, and realised that Youji was waving a hand in front of his face, "What?"  he grunted.

   "You zoned out there."  Youji commented then frowned, the mist of humour and sexual innuendo gone from his voice once more, "The mission won't be that bad, Aya."  He said, "I might be obsessed with sex, but I haven't ever pressed myself on somebody who wasn't interested."  He paused, staring at Aya for several silent seconds as if waiting for something, then sighed and continued, "Besides - it's all an act."

Aya turned back to the door, reaching forward to press the doorbell again.  _All an act._  His mind echoed, _It'll always just be an act._


	5. Not only uninterested but also oblivious...

Lust

By Tien Riu

====================================================================

Disclaimer: 

Weiss Kreuz and all characters do not belong to me.  Plot (what little there is of it ^_^) and depiction of characters are mine.  

C&C, R&R and any other derivation there of including flames will be appreciated.  

"Lust" is the first of three Weiss Kreuz stories that are determinedly yaoi (that means homosexual relationships for the initiated) and (unfortunately, since I was aiming for a PWP at the start and failed miserable) plot-driven.  For those who are interested, "Do you believe in sin?" is a short background story to this series - however, you don't need to read it to understand anything that happens. 

Extra Note: Rating [R] is for future chapters, but I'm not lowering it down to PG-13 simply because it seems awful to do something like that to readers. Also - it feels like cheating since Fanfiction.net has just put G - PG-13 as the default view rating.

=====================================================================

=================================================================

Not only uninterested but also oblivious - and disgust

=================================================================

_Youji_

      Well if I ever needed to know that Aya is not only uninterested but also oblivious to the most blatant leading questions.  .  .

      Kritiker's safe houses are always a surprise.  In the two years I have worked with and for them, I've seen five: the penthouse apartment in one of Tokyo's swankiest districts, the suburban home in the centre of nowhere, the farm house near Kyoto, the shack in the middle of down town east and of course, Weiss' own escape - the chalet in the mountains.  

    The mansion is startling however.  Palatial, it positively reeks of old money, dated values and western style motives.  _Well, at least the bathrooms will be clean._  

    I hate places like this - nothing grounds into you where you come from and where you don't belong than having it rubbed into your face.

Aya is frowning again; Aya's moods have three phases, I have found.  One is glaring, the second is frowning and the third is what I like to call 'stand by'.  It's the blank, unreadable look you get just before he chooses to either glare at you or frown at something.  

_Notice me - notice me - _

    Childhood voices should stay in repressed memories where they belong.

      "You going to say anything to me?"  I ask, staring at him - he ignores me, no big surprise there.

And I refuse to let that batter my ego - it isn't as if Aya finds just _me_ annoying - he finds _everybody_ annoying.  

    It would be immature to keep this up, especially since I _know _it aggravates him.  

    Definitely immature - and utterly unprofessional.  Even oblivious Ken would be able to tell that he wants to shut up and wait in silence for somebody in that mausoleum to get to the door.  So I should definitely _not_ keep on speaking - or do anything else.  .  .

    Definitely.  .  .

I was never known for my maturity.  

      "You're going to have to sooner or later you know, A~ya."  I say softly, drawling out his name in a voice that I usually keep reserved for picking up dates - or annoying Ken.

      He keeps staring straight ahead, at the door; but his shoulders have stiffened.  

    _Score!_

    Well - not yet, but hey, we'll be pushed into close quarters during this mission.  If not score, then maybe some extensive rubbing.  

    I grin as I lean closer to him, draping one arm over his shoulders - I can feel his muscles tense.  

   "We could start small - maybe pet names.  Couples _always _use pet names."  That's a lie - but if he's not speaking then I can get away with murder surely, "How about I call you _cherry pie_?"  

    I'm leaning in so close that my breath feathers the long strands of hair falling over his ears.  

    Close enough to breath in the heat emanating from his body.  .  .

   "Or how 'bout _didums_?"  I murmur, switching to auto-pilot, "Maybe _lovey-dove_?"  

    He smells - familiar.  My fingers twitch as I lean in closer to him, forgetting that this is Aya I have my arm draped over.

    Forgetting that this started out as an immature impulse.  Forgetting everything as I lean in closer to breath in the scent - that elusively drifts away, forcing me to move in closer.  Okay maybe not force - maybe.  .  .  Tentalises.  .  .  

    His hair feels like silk against my nose.

   "_A~ya_.  .  ."  my voice - it sounds hoarse, if I take less than a shift forward, I'll be pressed against him.

    He's warm - and the growing night is cold.  

    And Jay is a memory - fading before the reality of Aya Fujimiya.

    My hand slides, barely brushing against his hair, trailing downwards.

    It feels like silk - pure, spun silk.

    He is wearing a black jumper - it hangs around his hips, loose and comfortable but it clings to his chest, to his torso.  And lower.  

    My fingers twitch - beneath, I know, is flesh.  His shirt - silk, my imagination whispers - warmed to his body, clinging to it.  So easy, to slip my hand underneath the edge of the jumper. 

    So easy - to slide my arm around him, to pull him towards me.

    So easy to unbutton one, then the second, then the third and onwards up.  

    So easy to tilt my head down, to press my lips against the dark red of his hair, to find that part of him that -

      "What are you doing?"  

A sharp shock of pain drags me back from fevered imaginings.  He has my hand in a grip tight enough to hurt - tight enough to warn me that struggling to get free will involve bruises.  And his eyes - his eyes are glowing.

      Anger.  And - something else.

      "Wh-what?"  

      "Don't.  Touch.  Me."  Aya hisses, dropping my hand and hitting the doorbell again.

This time, I can hear something ringing far inside.  And footsteps.

    The door swings open, revealing a young man in a suit.

   "Fujimiya and Kudou?"

Aya stalks in with a curt nod, leaving me still standing there, staring at him.

    My hand throbs silently.  As do other parts of my anatomy.  

      _What did you just do Kudou?_

      "Sir?"  the young man asked, staring at me, "Youji Kudou?"  he asks, then repeats when I can only stare blankly at him.

I hesitate, then nod and pick up my bag and follow the young man into the mansion.

      _What did you do?_

      I know what I saw in his eyes.

      Anger.  _ Anger and something else._

      Anger.

Anger.  And disgust.  .  .


	6. All an act towards his future

Lust

By Tien Riu

====================================================================

Disclaimer: 

Weiss Kreuz and all characters do not belong to me.  Plot (what little there is of it ^_^) and depiction of characters are mine.  

C&C, R&R and any other derivation there of including flames will be appreciated.  

"Lust" is the first of three Weiss Kreuz stories that are determinedly yaoi (that means homosexual relationships for the initiated) and (unfortunately, since I was aiming for a PWP at the start and failed miserable) plot-driven.  For those who are interested, "Do you believe in sin?" is a short background story to this series - however, you don't need to read it to understand anything that happens.  

Extra Note: Rating [R] is for future chapters, but I'm not lowering it down to PG-13 simply because it seems awful to do something like that to readers. Also - it feels like cheating since Fanfiction.net has just put G - PG-13 as the default view rating.

=====================================================================

_Aya_

      _All an act.  All an act._

The mantra refused to cease repeating in his head; so Aya ignored it as he had learned to ignore everything that interfered with his mission.  

_How long A~ya? How long can you pretend this doesn't exist? That you're all ice? How long? How long before it isn't a pretence?_

      "Mr. Fujiyima?"  The speaker was another man in a black business suit standing at the feet of a long arching stretch of stairs.

Several wall scones dimly lighted the hallway, their dull light casting reflective shadows on the marble of the floor.  

    Aya inclined his head coming to a stop several yards in front of the speaker; behind he could hear Youji following behind the young man who had greeted them.

   "Mr. Kudou?"  The speaker glanced behind Aya, and he knew, without turning that Youji was behind him.

      _How long?_

      "Yeah.  That's me.  Who are you?"  Youji asked, dropping his bag onto the floor, "And where is Manx?"

   "You can call me -"  the man hesitated, then continued, "Fluffy."

A cold line of sensation ran up Aya's spine, he shifted silently - and knew Youji was doing the same.

    "Fluffy?"  Youji repeated, "You want us to call you Fluffy?"  
The man shrugged, "It is my codename -"

   "Kritiker uses cat breeds as names, not cat _names_."  Youji said, suspicion colouring his voice, "Who the hell are you?"

Youji had access to his weapon at all times - it was the nature of his speciality.  Aya on the other hand, could not openly carry a katana.  However, it was amazing the places it was possible to secrete knives.

   Aya turned slightly, keeping the young man who had opened the door within sight; Youji stepped forward, drawing attention to himself.  

    _You work well with him A~ya.  Know how he thinks, how he reacts.  It's not just professionalism.  .  .  Is it, A~ya?_

'Fluffy' held up a hand, "Please.  Relax."  He gestured to the young man behind them, "My code name according to Kritiker _is_ Fluffy.  I am not a contact or an operative, I am a contract specialist."

   "Contract specialist?"  Youji repeated, "Never heard of them."  
   "All contract specialists are called 'Fluffy'."  The young man said - perhaps unhelpfully; he remained standing there, arms clasped before him.

   "Never heard of that either."  Youji said, "So how about me and my partner leave, and when Kritiker gets around to informing us about all these new 'codes', we'll come back."  He added lightly.

   "And if we don't let you?"  'Fluffy' asked, almost casually.

Youji shrugged, and smiled - it would have seemed carefree had Aya not seen the expression in his eyes.  _Cold_.

'Fluffy' frowned, then sighed, "Well - fine.  But it means the mission will not be completed by the target date,"  he said, "You do realise that this is unnecessary wastage of -"

    Aya nearly missed the signal - it was only the slight widening of 'Fluffy's eyes.  He swung his bag straight at the young man, a muffled thump sign that Youji had done the same to 'Fluffy', drawing the knife he had tucked in the small of his back - and then, suddenly, the lights went.  .  .  Out.

      And then there was nothing. 

      The man who had called himself 'Fluffy' stared down dispassionately at the two men sprawled on the ground, "Pity."  He said.

The young man who had opened the door gently placed the bag that had been thrown at him - and which he had deftly caught - on the floor, "Why a pity?"  he asked, his voice not so much curious as a rote repetition of an expected question.

   "They reacted exactly as expected."  'Fluffy' said.

The young man frowned, "And that's bad?"

   "Of course."  'Fluffy' turned away, kneeling beside the bag that had been thrown at him, he unzipped it, riffling through the contents quickly and efficiently, "Chaos, uncertainty - such things are rare and should always be sought."

The young man stared at his turned back, "Chaos and uncertainty is only unexpected to you -"  he paused, and almost smiled, "'Fluffy'."

   "Don't call me that."  'Fluffy' replied, standing up; on the floor, the bag's contents were spilt over the marble, "Kudou's dress sense seems to have improved with youth."  He said.

The young man turned his gaze to the various items of clothing, "Was that in your visions as well?"

   "Time will tell."  'Fluffy' replied, and almost smiled as well, "Has he contacted you yet?"

The young man frowned, his eyes blanking slightly then nodded, "He just did.  How did you know he was here already?"

'Fluffy' arched one eyebrow, "Did you truly think that I somehow managed to handle these two kittens without lifting a finger, Farfello?"  he asked, rhetorically.

The young man - Farfello - shrugged, "It could happen, 'Fluffy'."  He said, "God works in mysterious ways."  
'Fluffy' winced, "Please do not use that phrase - from you.  .  .  It is extremely disconcerting."

Farfello grinned then, the first true emotion, "I know.  Shu told me you didn't like it, 'Fluffy'."

'Fluffy' did not answer, instead turning his gaze to the entrance of the mansion, frowning, "What took you so long?"

    The man who entered had red hair; he, like the other two, was dressed conservatively in a black suit.  He was carrying several bags.

   "Traffic."  He said shortly.

'Fluffy' paused, then grinned, "Lover boy decided to drop me off at the airport."  He said, and it wasn't a question.

The red haired man rolled his eyes, "Keep your precog ass out of my past, 'Fluffy'."  He drawled as he strolled over and paused before the two men on the floor, "How much time do we have?"  he asked.

'Fluffy' paused, glancing fixedly down at the men - and at the same time _through_ them, "Five hours.  If we leave in five hours and thirty three minutes, Kritiker will never know what happened."  He said, then paused and added, "Don't call me that."

The red haired man nodded, "Where's the little prodigy?"  he asked.

'Fluffy' winced, "His name is Nagi.  Do not call him that."

   "Right, the little genius then."  The red haired man retorted, "You have weird hang-ups Fluf -"  he stopped at 'Fluffy's level headed glare, "Crawford."  He finished, holding up his hands with a sigh, "No way to win with a precog is there?"  he sighed, "So, five hours, thirty minutes give or take.  We better get cracking."  He paused and stared at the two men on the ground and sighed, "Do we have to carry them upstairs?"  he whined, "Can't Nagi do this?"

'Fluffy' - Crawford - ignored him and turned on his heel, walking away.

The red haired man sighed, "Ah damn - he's in one of his moods again -"  he paused, eyes widening, "The least he could do is carry the bags!" 

Farfello shrugged, picking up the slighter form of Aya Fujiyima and settling him loose-limbed over one shoulder, "Your problem."  He said.

The red haired man was left alone; he sighed rolling his eyes as he stared down at the body of Youji Kudou.

   "The things I do for a little bit of ass."  He said, before a lecherous grin slipped onto his face; he smoothed one hand down Youji's length as he picked the man up, "Crawford's plans are going to give you one hell of a headache, Kudou-san,"  he drawled quietly, "But one day in the future, you're going to thank me for choosing you out of your litter."  He smiled, "Though the choosing was - nice.  We'll have to repeat it one day in the future."  

      Elsewhere, the man who was called Crawford and had been known as 'Fluffy' smiled as images of death, destruction and slavery played for the last time through his mind's eyes.  By his side, Farfello frowned - it was unusual for Crawford to smile.

   "What do you see?"  Farfello asked.

   "You with white hair."  Crawford replied quietly.

Farfello frowned, glancing to the glass windows; his reflection stared back, a young man with black hair and blue eyes - both, he assumed, from his absent father.

   "I get a very bad peroxide job in the future?"  Farfello asked, "Shu's bad taste brushes off on me?"

   "Don't worry Farfello.  I'll make sure your hair remains black."  Crawford replied and continued walking.

      Behind them, Jay Bennett followed, carrying Youji Kudou towards his future.


	7. Between antiseptic, psychological disord...

Lust

By Tien Riu

====================================================================

Disclaimer: 

Weiss Kreuz and all characters do not belong to me.  Plot (what little there is of it ^_^) and depiction of characters are mine.  

C&C, R&R and any other derivation there of including flames will be appreciated.  

"Lust" is the first of three Weiss Kreuz stories that are determinedly yaoi (that means homosexual relationships for the initiated) and (unfortunately, since I was aiming for a PWP at the start and failed miserable) plot-driven.  For those who are interested, "Do you believe in sin?" is a short background story to this series - however, you don't need to read it to understand anything that happens.  

**Extra note**: As previously mentioned, this started out as a PWP story and (unfortunately) turned out plot driven.  I'd appreciate some feedback on what readers think of the plot if possible.

Also, this is a semi-AU storyline (I'm afraid I forgot to put that up when I first published the prologue - that has since been fixed).  Original characters will be shot (no really! ^_^) and out of characterisation will be kept to a minimum.  

Character-angst and torture does not count as out-of-characterisation right?

Additionally, the story summary listed does still have relevance to the over all storyline.

=====================================================================

=================================================================

Between antiseptic, psychological disorders and nightmares

=================================================================

_Youji_

      I wake to a splitting headache that sends piercing light shooting through my eyes and the sound of a steady beep.

    It takes me several seconds to realise that the light is sunlight reflected to blinding proportions off the white walls.

    _Hospital room._

      It seems, regardless of the eye-cringing shades the human race is capable of making and wearing - lime green being the latest - hospital décor remains stuck in a white rut.  

    I hate hospitals.  Nothing good has ever happened to me when a hospital was in a picture.  If white didn't look so damn good on me, I'd hate it too - because it reminds me of hospitals.

      The place smells of antiseptic and fear.  

      The headache has decided to take up residence somewhere behind my right temple.  Nauseous, and listing, I sit up - and realise in that moment that I'm lying on a bed, and there's an IV linked to my arm.

    That in itself is not unusual.  Missions go wrong - it's practically a catch phrase.  A mission that does not involve at least one of us hiding bandages from the Koneko customers is unusual.  

    But this has to be the first time that I've woken up with an IV lead and no idea how or why I ended up here.

      The beeping continues and I realise - with such a slow clarification of thought that I know that I have drugs in my system - I am hooked up to machines.

    _What happened that they're worried enough to monitor my heart beat and -_  I stare at the second machine, discretely tucked away against the wall - _Brain waves?_

      My last memory is - _The mansion.  Aya standing at the door ringing the bell._  I flinch.  _And acting like an idiot._

    Oh yeah - leave it to me to pick the _wrong_ memories to remember.  

    _So much for not pressing yourself on people who aren't interest, Youji._  

    But the past is unchangeable - and we can only keep going forward.  Clichéd, but true none the less.  

    _Cinnamon.  He smelled like cinnamon._

    It takes dint of will, but I turn my thoughts away from Aya - and whatever shampoo he used that made him smell like.  .  .

    _Damn._

      Right, it takes dint of will but I turn my thoughts away from Aya and back to the more important issues - and not, for instant, my frustrated libido.  

    _What happened - why am I here?_

    It wasn't because Aya had decided to try and kill me for invading his personal space.

    Okay, mostly sure it wasn't because of that.

      _Probably sure - and you wouldn't blame him if he had.  Remember what Thane taught you? Flirt with the straight ones at your own risk.  And Aya is so straight he's practically asexual._

      _So why _are_ you here?_  

There didn't seem to be anything wrong with me other than a splitting headache.  Despite the IV drip and the machines hooked up to me, I feel - normal.  Or at least mostly normal.  

    If this was a conventional movie, I would have woken up to some person in a chair next to my bed who would conveniently answer all my questions.

    _A redheaded person.  .  ._

   Damn.  

      There's nobody in the room except for me.  And the machines.  

   There is however, a tiny button - of the variety that normally summons pretty nurses in most movies.

_Omi_

      "Have a good day!"  Omi called as the door jangled shut.

He sighed in relief, slumping against the counter.  _I hate having to do the busy shifts._

    His usual smile turned slightly ironic as he heard his own thoughts.  _Wouldn't they be shocked if they heard me say that?_

    He knew the others looked on him to be ever cheerful.  It was part of his personality: cheerfulness, enthusiasm.  And the ever-present ability to forget during daylight hours that he was who he was - an assassin.  All of those traits, all tied up to create the youngest member of Weiss.

    _And nobody will ever know that half the time - it's a lie._  He wasn't always cheerful.  He wasn't always enthusiastic.  And he couldn't ever forget who he was.  But by acting - by pretending.  .  .

    _I wonder how they can believe I can be this way all the time - if I met anybody who was like that, I'd assume they had some sort of psychological disorder._  

    Either that or living what amounted to a double life.

      "Omi?"

Omi jerked in shock - Ken had been in the back room, finishing off the last of tomorrow's arrangements.  

   "Ken -! I - I didn't hear the door."  Omi said, and paused, frowning, "What's wrong?"

Ken was limping, one hand pressed to his side, and panting, "Out - out of shape."  He managed, "Running up three flights of stairs to get the phone - takes a bit more out of me than I expected."  He managed as he straightened.

   "Oh -"  between the noise in the store and handling the last few customers, Omi hadn't heard the phone ringing.  He cast a guilty glance at the door that led up to the apartments - left open for specifically that reason, "Didn't Aya hear it?"  he asked.

   "If he did - he didn't do anything about it."  Ken said, "It was Manx.  We need to close up early."  He said; Omi nodded and moved to flip the 'open' sign on the door to 'close'.

   "Is it - is it Youji?"  Omi asked quietly, "Is he - worse?"

    They had been waiting for the bad news for two weeks.  Mysterious comas with strange brain chemistry readings rarely turned into wondrous recoveries.  Despite what soap operas promised.

    Ken shook his head, "Manx didn't say - just that she wants us to meet her at the Magic Bus Hospital."  He said.

   "Did you - tell Aya?"

Ken grimaced, testing weight on his ankle, "Yes."

Omi's eyes widened, "He didn't - did he?"

   "Tripped on the way down the stairs."  Ken said shortly, "Bastard couldn't wait to slam the door in my face though." 

Since the attack at the safe house two weeks ago, Aya had become -

    Well, he had always been silent and withdrawn, but at least it had been possible to coax a less-than-death-glare out of him.

    Aya had been awake by the time Kritiker's forces, led by Manx, had arrived at the safe house.  In the debrief, Manx had said he had been trying to wake Youji up.

    Like the doctors, Aya had failed - Omi suspected that the older man's black mood was due to the fact that, for unknown reasons, he blamed himself.

    _Either that or he blames all of us._  Omi added wryly.  It was always hard to tell anything with Aya.   

_Aya_

      _There was something wrong with the lights.  It wavered as if some master controller played with a dial.  Except - there were no source of the light.  It merely - wavered.  As if the sun itself was playing.  As if God himself was playing._

_    There was a man - standing over him.  He had red hair - fiery, it seemed to dance in the air.  Flames._

_   "Who - who are you?"  his voice - no.  Not his voice - it sounded too flat, too - empty._

_The man stared at him.  _Green.  His eyes are green.

_    "Yes.  They are."  The man said, and then smirked - a flash of white.  He kneeled, dizzyingly closer now._

_    "Take care of the kitten, A~ya."  He whispered softly, "I'll come back and claim him when I have some free time."  _

      "Aya! Aya!"

Aya Fujiyima startled, nearly falling from the armchair he had been sitting in.  He caught himself on the edge of the bedside table and stared balefully at the door.

   "What is it?"  he growled.

   "We're leaving in five minutes."  Ken's voice came through the door clearly - the unhappiness and anger clear in its syllable.

   _Leaving.  Hospital - Youji._

   Aya felt tension flow back into his muscles.  

      The dreams had repeated endlessly since he had woken up in the mansion.  Half the time, he wasn't sure if they were truly memories or merely nightmare imaginings.

    _How can anybody scream like that - and not have more than a pinprick on his body?_

    How could anybody scream in such agony - and still be alive? 

      He remembered being kicked - and the crack of his ribs giving under the force.

    He remembered something being injected into his arm - and struggling to get away only to fall, dizzy for breath.

    And he remembered people speaking over him and laughter.

    But when he had woken up - his ribs had not been broken.  Not even bruised.  

    So it must have been dreams.  _Nightmares._

    Except - _Youji wouldn't wake up._

      _He was lying in the marble entrance of the mansion.  A glance at his watch revealing five hours had passed - and no sign of their attackers: the mysterious 'Fluffy' and his partner.  _

_    He had risen shakily to his knees, rubbing his chest - it should have been bruised at least.  He had a memory of pain._

_    Out of the corner of his eyes, he had seen the hand, palm facing up.  _

_    Youji was lying several feet away, sprawled, calm.  His chest rising and falling._

_    He had crawled over, shaking him - but Youji hadn't woken up.  Hadn't even flinched.  _

_Remind you of anybody?_

      A timid knock on his door jerked Aya out of his thoughts; he turned in time to see Omi poking his head around the corner.

   "Aya?"

   "What is it?"

   "We're ready to leave.  Did you want to drive?"


	8. Hate is an unseen breath yellow roses an...

Lust

By Tien Riu

====================================================================

Disclaimer: 

Weiss Kreuz and all characters do not belong to me.  Plot (what little there is of it ^_^) and depiction of characters are mine.  

C&C, R&R and any other derivation there of including flames will be appreciated.  

"Lust" is the first of three Weiss Kreuz stories that are determinedly yaoi (that means homosexual relationships for the initiated) and (unfortunately, since I was aiming for a PWP at the start and failed miserable) plot-driven.  For those who are interested, "Do you believe in sin?" is a short background story to this series - however, you don't need to read it to understand anything that happens.  

**Extra Note:** Firstly: thank you for the reviews! I really appreciate what has been said so far.

Secondly: really like to know what readers thought of interaction between Aya, Youji, Ken and Omi as well as what you think is wrong with Youji (just to see if I'm clear enough on what's suppose to be happening).

Summary plot line still has relevance, and should make sense by next installment.  

=====================================================================

=================================================================

Hate is an unseen breath; yellow roses and insanity

=================================================================

_Ken_

      _I hate hospitals._  Ken thought as he trailed behind Omi and Aya.  They flanked Manx as she walked down the long, brightly lit corridors.  

    _I hate the smell.  I hate the lighting.  I hate the fact that even when they try to use colours _other_ than white it still comes out sickly._  

    He glanced down at the tiles that lined the walls - a case in point for bad taste and institutionalised colour sense.  The faint shade of light green might have once been high fashion, but in such quantity, it lent an air of seasickness.

    Almost a year and a half ago, now, he had woken up here.  In so much pain it had taken all his will power not to curl up in a ball and give up.  Or cry.  

    _And after -_

    But that was the past - and life had gotten better.  _Exactly three months later when you walked into the Koneko and met Omi and Youji_.

    But he still hated hospitals - hated being in one.  Hated having to be near one.  Hated the fact that anybody he knew needed to be in one.

    They were headed in the direction of the private suites.  He had inhabited one of the rooms down this corridor a year and a half ago.  They had redecorated since then - but everything was familiar.  

   "Are you alright?"

Ken blinked and realised Omi was staring at him, wide eyes filled with concern, "Yeah."  He said shortly, running a hand through his hair, "Just - don't like hospitals."  He added when the chibi remained staring at him worriedly.

Omi nodded in understanding, "Neither does Youji-kun."  He said, "Do you think -"  he paused, "Do you think it'll be all right?"

Ken stared at the youngest member of Weiss - and for the first time in weeks, felt the weight of their difference in ages return to his shoulders.  _It's easy to forget, when he's the most dependable of all of us.  Too easy to forget that underneath that aura of maturity, he isn't like the rest of us - he's just a kid._

   "I - hope so."  He replied softly.

Manx had met them at the entrance of the Magic Bus Hospital and led them straight to the wing where all Kritiker operatives were kept.  Ken had supposed that any briefing they would get on Youji's health would occur here, somewhere in the secured perimeter of Kritiker's private wing.  

    He hadn't expected the debriefing to take place outside Youji's room, and for it to come in the phrase: "You have ten minutes."

      _Ten minutes? What the hell?_

      Aya had already opened the door and entered, followed quickly by Omi, leaving Ken to wonder if he had missed some important information when he had trailed behind the others.

_Aya_

      _"He's awake."_

Manx's words.  That one phrase had done what two weeks without missions had not managed.

    Suddenly, the tension that had wrapped itself into his muscles and thoughts had - eased.  And he didn't know why.

    _Yeah - 'don't know why'.  Sure - keep telling yourself that A~ya._

He had felt - relieved.  And for what?

    _Kudou - useless, womanising Youji Kudou._  

    _What does it matter if he lives or dies? So long as it isn't your fault? It shouldn't matter at all -_

    Except it did.  For some reason he could not phantom it _did_.  And the knowledge burned a hole through his conscious thoughts. 

Aya drew a silent, unseen breath and opened the door of the room - so like all the others down this corridor.  Identical to his sister's - two floors up and one corridor down in the same wing of the hospital.

    Unlike Aya-chan's room however, this one was - empty.  

    Bare.  

    _A better word would be deserted._  

    There was all the usual paraphernalia of a hospital room - the machines that beeped reassuring watchfulness, the regulation white curtains over a wide window that overlooked a distant window.  But Aya-chan's room had - something else.  A sense of peace - as if the cares of the world could be left at the door. 

    _The word you're looking for is 'lived in'.  No matter what you would like to say or do - no matter what you think taking up her name means - her room is 'lived' in.  And this one is not._

    Aya shook away his strange thoughts and stared at the bed and Youji.  The machine lines still ran over his body; one to monitor his heart, two to monitor brain wave patterns and an IV drip hooked to his arm.  Just like the last time he had seen Youji - except this time, the older man's eyes were open.

   "Hey."  Youji said, hesitantly, staring at Aya, "Ah -"

   "Youji-kun! You're awake!"  Omi exclaimed, a smile blazing across his face, "I - if we had known I'd have brought more flowers!"

Youji grimaced, "Anything but flowers -"  he frowned, staring at Omi, "Chibi - you were really worried?"

Omi looked startled, then nodded, the smile fading a trifle, "I - yes."  He said, "I - we were all worried, Youji."

Youji smiled, then looked past Omi, "Ken-Ken.  See you made it as well."

Ken faked a glare, "Don't call me that!" and then smiled, "Glad to see you finally decided to wake up, Yo-tan."  He said, "I've taken so many of your morning shifts that I can take a holiday for the next month on the days you'll need to work for me alone."  

Youji made a mue, "So nice to know I was missed."  He said blandly, "You guys hear when they're going to let me get out of here?"  he asked, "The doctors keep saying things about another day or two of observations -"  he paused, staring at all of them, "Wait - you didn't know I woke up yesterday?"

    Aya knew then. 

      _Too quick._

Youji was good at reading people.  Personalities, behaviours, emotions - next to Omi, he was the fastest at adapting to required social interaction.  But even Omi wasn't this quick to shifts of mood.

    "I'll talk to Manx."  He said quietly as he left the room, closing the door on Youji's puzzled expression.

   "Well?"  Manx had been waiting, leaning against the wall.

   "What did they do to him?"  Aya demanded without preamble.

Manx arched one elegant eyebrow, but answered his question, "What they did to you, Aya."  She said, "Except - the effects seem to be taking a longer time to run their course through him."

   "Drugs?"

   "In part we believe, yes."

Aya turned on his heel, "So this was all a case of guinea pig?"  he gritted out through clenched teeth, "They wanted to experiment and chose us?"

   "Yes."

   "Why did they leave us behind?"

   "We think they didn't intend to.  The safe house was supposed to be manned.  For several reasons, by the time you arrived, it wasn't."  Manx said quietly, "A series of coincidences meant you and Youji walked into a trap intended for other victims."

   "And the forces you brought scared them away early."

   "Precisely."  

   "So what happens next?"  Aya demanded, "What's wrong with him? How is he doing -"  he paused, what _was_ Youji doing other than reacting faster than he possibly could to social situations? "That."  Aya finished quietly.

   "We don't know.  We're not even sure if there's something wrong with him or if he's merely shown more observing skills then previously expected."

Aya stiffled a scoff: an observant Youji? Maybe when it came to flirting, remembering phone numbers and pick up lines.

   "The only indications of a change is that he has made several people uneasy."  Manx continued, "However, there has been no proof of a change.  We ran a full scan on his brain late yesterday - there isn't any signs of growths or statistically significant changes from the norm."  Manx replied, "His blood tests indicates that the chemicals they injected into his system are almost gone."

   "So this - thing - will wear off?"  

   "If it is caused by what they injected into his blood streams, then we believe so."  Manx replied, "By tomorrow, the last of the chemicals will have run their course."  She paused, then added, "Kritiker requires Weiss as a stable unit, Fujiyima.  Youji's responses to questions on what he remembers of the night inidcated some - hesitation - when it came to you."  Aya's head jerked up, and his eyes were caught by hers, steady and unreadable, "I need to know if you have a problem with Kudou."

   "No -"  Aya stopped, breathed in once to calm himself, "There was an - odd moment - during the first part of the night, before we met 'Fluffy' and his partner."

   "Why didn't you tell us of this - 'odd moment'?"

   "It didn't signify.  It was only Kudou's - sense of humour."  Aya said shortly.

   "What happened Aya."  Manx said.

Aya ignored the sensation of being five once more and brought to task for trailing mud through the kitchen.

   "He put his arm around me."

   "And -?"

   "That was all."  Aya replied.  _The rest were just words.  They didn't mean anything._

Manx's eyebrow rose but she remained silent, accepting his 'report'.

   "Youji will be released tomorrow afternoon.  I expect Weiss to be ready for duty in one month."  She said finally.

Aya nodded - it was longer than he himself had expected - and took a hidden breath before entering the room again.

    Youji was ruffling Omi's hair, laughing at something that had been said previously.  Which was probably the cause of Ken's reddening face.  They looked up as he entered - and Aya had the disconcerting sensation of being an outsider in the picture.

    _Foolish - they are your team mates.  We are all part of Weiss._

   "Manx says you'll be released tomorrow afternoon."  He reported quietly, "Weiss has one month before we return to full duty."

    So why did it feel as if he was intruding? Why did it _matter_ when it shouldn't have.  When he shouldn't even think of things like this.  

_Omi_

Omi drew a breath as he leaned against the wall behind the door, allowing the flood of schoolgirls to stream past him into the store.  Sensei Doko had wanted to talk to him - and because of the strange conversation that had followed, he had gotten to the flower shop at three thirty rather than three.  The sight that met his eyes was of chaos; Koneko was filled to the brim with customers - or at least potential customers.

    Omi hid a grin as he watched Aya clench the silver ribbon; it wasn't hard to know that somewhere, the very short fuse to Aya's temper was blowing sparks.  _Wonder if he realises that they very reason he has so many 'fans' is because he keeps yelling at them? Half the girls are convinced that they'll be the ones to save 'Poor Aya' from his 'tragic memories'. _

    Youji was standing at the register, serving the last of the non-peak time customers, a blue-haired old woman who smiled gently at something Youji said and waved goodbye before making her way slowly through the giggling crowd.

    _Three.  Two.  .  .  One._  

    Almost on cue, Aya put down the silver ribbon, picked up the watering can and stalked to the backroom - the girls followed him.  _We have blast off._

   The red head growled, sending the group of girls around him several feet back in shock.  They giggled, too used to his habitual: "Buy something or _leave_!" to be scared for very long.

    Youji had looked up at Aya's outburst; a slight smile touched his lips before he turned back to the register, "Thank you! And come again."  He said, flashing his usual smile at the girl before him.

    _Same old Youji - you'd never know he was unconscious two weeks ago._  

    The close call with perpetual sleep had sent Youji into a spate of good behaviour.  He hadn't missed a shift for the two weeks he had returned from the hospital.  The same could not, unfortunately, be said for his sudden spate of alcoholism.  He might make it to his morning shift, but he was usually so hung over he was useless for anything but Aya-reminiscent grunts.

    "Aya-san is so - so _meaningful._  He has depth - and personality."  A girl several feet away chirped to her giggling friend, "Don't you think he's the best? There's _really_ something to fall in love with!"

   "I prefer Ken-Ken.  He's so much easier to talk to -!"  her friend replied.

   "No way - Youji-kun! He's the best.  And he always has time to talk with us - not like all the others!"  another girl piped up as she walked past and stopped, "See I'll show you - bet you I can get him to smile at me."  She grinned, glancing towards Youji, "Way better than angst and sports any day." 

Omi hid a smile - wondering if he should pass these facts to his teammates to see if they wouldattempt to loose the qualities attracting their fans.

   _Ken pretending to be anti-social and refusing to talk I can _almost _imagine.  But Aya becoming talkative?_

   He swallowed a snicker, then frowned as he watched Youji suddenly turn to stare at the girls talking in front of Omi.  Was it his imagination or did Youji seem - shocked?  _Youji? Shocked? Impossible - right?_

    Omi stared across the store.  It was filled with women - usually Youji's favourite time of day.  He was usually the one in the centre of the crowd, calmly handling the giggling girls before Aya lost his temper completely and tried to use the sheering scissors as a katana.

    _Never knew how much attention he drew away from the rest of us._

      "Oi - Omi.  You going to stand there all day or are you going to help us?"  

Omi jerked out of his thoughts, flushing as he realised Ken was staring directly at him, a pile of pots tilting gently in his right arm as he tried to fend off several girls with his other.

   "Ye-yes Ken-kun! Sorry!"  Omi called, "I'll help you with those -!"

   "Hiya Youji-_kun_."  The girl had made it to the register, and was now leaning over it, a flirtatious smile on her lips, "Guess what?"  she leaned closer as a circle of silence spread from the counter outwards, her school friends eager to see the latest exploit since one of their own had given Ken a flower on his birthday.

    _And how they found out it was his birthday I wish I knew.  .  ._  Omi thought ruefully, watching the exchange between the girl and Youji out of the corner of his eye.

    Youji smiled as he leaned back, "Ah - you have found a boyfriend and must break the news to your heartbroken followers?"  he husked gently.

The girl shook her head, leaning closer, "Nope."  She paused, flipping her hair over one shoulder, her smile dazzling, "My eighteenth birthday is tomorrow -"  she said, "Youji-kun."

Youji smiled, opened his mouth as if he was about to say something - and then his eyes widened.  

    And stumbled off the chair - it tipped over, clattering as it hit the floor.

    Aya looked up, puzzled - Omi already watching, stared - as Youji muttered something and strode - no ran - into the backroom.

   _What the -_?

   "What's wrong with Youji?"  Ken asked in confusion.

Around them, the level of speech rose.  At the register, the girl who had been speaking with Youji - Makoto, Omi dredged the name out of his memories - flipped her hair back and smiled smugly.  _I guess to them, any response is better than none._  Omi thought, staring at the backroom.  The door was half open - _I should go see what's wrong with him._

    "I - I don't know."  Omi said, "I'll go -"

   "Omi.  Take the register."  Aya barked from where he was standing, putting down the watering can and striding to the backroom.

   "Oh -"  Omi blinked, then forced a smile to his lips, "Yes Aya!"

   "Ne - Omi-kun?"  he blinked, realised a girl - in his level at school, but in another class, "What's wrong with Youji-kun?"

   "Ah -"  _Damn - what to say?_  It was impossible that Youji had actually been shocked, startled and - _Frightened?_ - by what Makoto had been saying.

    It hadn't even been explicit.

   "Youji just recovered from a bad case of the flu."  Omi said, "I don't think he's been feeling well all day."  He glanced at Ken - hoping the oblivious older man would get the hint for once.

Ken looked startled, then nodded, "Hey - I just remembered that we're lowering the prices on the yellow roses today."  He added, "Right Omi?"

   "Um - yes."  Omi withheld a groan. 

_Oh gods - now they're all going to buy roses for Youji._  

_  
_

_Aya_

      Sunlight streamed through the backroom's sole window highlighting the dust motes as they filtered slowly to the bare, gray, concrete floor.  

    The noise from the Koneko shop floor was muffled - the backroom shared the wall with the corridor leading to the mission room, and thus, shared the soundproofing.

    The sound of water running through the old pipes echoed briefly overhead.  Youji was leaning over the sink, head bowed, face hidden by tendrils of gold-tinged brown locks escaping from his habitual pony tail.

    He was breathing hard, and droplets of water stained the pale white of his shirt.  

    _What's wrong with him?_

      It had been two weeks since Ken and Omi had brought him back; the reports from the doctors had been inconclusive.  Kritiker's medical staff were still trying to understand why Youji had refused to resurface from the coma - or why he had _woken _in the end.  

    _Remind you of anybody A~ya?_

    The alarming speed of responses to social stimuli had vanished.  _Except.  .  ._

    _He is unnerved by the customers and the way they treat him.  Youji Kudou - who flirts with anything that moves.  .  ._

    _It was only his sense of humour remember? Words don't mean anything - remember? Said it yourself, A~ya_.

    _Shut up._

      "Youji?"

Youji stiffened at the sink; he straightened slowly, water dripping from his hands.  Aya noticed for the first time, the dark circles under his eyes.  

    "What?"  

The droplets of water were tinted gold by the sunlight streaming through the window.  They sparkled as they fell to the floor, creating dark droplets amongst the dust of the floor.  

   "What?"  Youji repeated, anger and - exasperation? - flickering in his eyes, "Look - I'm_ sorry_ about what happened okay? I'm a stupid ass with a bad sense of humour - and if I had enough brain cells left over, I'd have realised you don't like having your personal space invaded."

      Aya stiffened himself.  He was trying to apologise - again.

   For a scene Aya had been trying to forget.  

      _As if you could forget -_

_      Shut up._

Youji had appeared at his door, the first night he had returned from the hospital, intent on apologising.

    _That's not what _you_ thought.  .  ._  a soft voice whispered, holding up his memory of Youji standing there, dressed in nothing more than a pair of dark blue boxer shorts. 

    _And for a moment - you thought -_

    _Shut up!_

      He had closed the door on Youji's apology.  

    _You were angry weren't you? Slighted.  Because it was all a joke to him - and it wasn't to you was it A~ya? _

   _Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! _

"What do you want from me?"  Youji suddenly demanded, "A piece of flesh - some blood? What?"  he stepped forward, close enough that another step forward would have brought them up against each other, and spread his arms out, "Go ahead - look I'll make it easy for you.  Do - whatever.  I won't stop you.  Hit me, slap me.  Punch me.  Kick me - whatever."

    Aya stood there, suddenly frozen.  His fingers twitched.   Would it be easy to reach out, to hit Youji?  To punch him?  To bruise the tanned surface of his face?

    Youji seemed surrounded by a golden aura of dust motes; his eyes glittered emerald green.  

_      Do you really believe that you're angry at him for touching you? Do you really believe you don't want somebody to touch you? Do you A~ya?_

    _Shut up - please - shut up - shut up - shut - up - _

      "Well? Come on - I know you've been -"

Aya caught hold of Youji's wrist - and watched as the older man flinched.  

    Somehow, they had gotten close enough to he could see the man's pupils contract.  

    "A-Aya."  

So close he could feel the warmth of Youji's breath on his skin.

    His skin was cold to the touch, and wet from the water.  

      _What am I doing?_

      "What's wrong with you?"

Youji blinked, "Wh-what?"

   "What's wrong with you?"  Aya repeated.

   "I - I -"  

   "Are you sick?"

   "No -"

Aya nodded curtly, and turned to leave.

   "Maybe - yes!"  Youji suddenly called out, an edge of - _Desperation? Why is he desperate?_

Aya stopped, half turned and stared at the man.

    Youji stood, one foot forward, rubbing his wrist, staring at the younger man, "I mean - ah -"  he trailed off, looking confused.

    "Take the rest of the day off.  You have morning shift tomorrow."

Aya said, and walked out of the door, closing it behind him.

      Behind him, Youji shuddered, staring at the closed door.  He rubbed his wrist, still shivering.  

    "Oh god."  It was a whisper, loud only in the silence of the backroom.  He slowly sank to the ground, "I'm going insane."


	9. A strange game where pain is better than...

Lust

By Tien Riu

====================================================================

Disclaimer: 

Weiss Kreuz and all characters do not belong to me.  Plot (what little there is of it ^_^) and depiction of characters are mine.  

C&C, R&R and any other derivation there of including flames will be appreciated.  

"Lust" is the first of three Weiss Kreuz stories that are determinedly yaoi (that means homosexual relationships for the initiated) and (unfortunately, since I was aiming for a PWP at the start and failed miserable) plot-driven.  For those who are interested, "Do you believe in sin?" is a short background story to this series - however, you don't need to read it to understand anything that happens.  

**Extra Note**: Firstly, thank you once more for the reviews.  Much appreciated.  

Secondly: still like to know (especially now) what you think of Youji's behaviour.  

Thirdly: yes, this story is categorised in the supernatural section for a _reason_ other than my arbitary decision.  ^_^

=====================================================================

=================================================================

A strange game where pain is better than pleasure

=================================================================

_Youji_

      At first – I didn't notice. 

    It was just – a strange game my mind seemed to be playing by itself.  Maybe it was a little bit more vivid than my imaginings usually were but – nothing extraordinary.  

    And it made a little sense - after all, I've always been good at understanding what motivates people.  Hey, I was a detective.  Once.

    So my guessing had improved.  And it unnerved Ken - a definite plus.  Omi, little kid that he is, didn't seem to notice anything different.  I guess, even though he's not exactly a good example of a normal teenager, when you're than young, adults are usually one step ahead.

    Well okay, so usually Omi is one step ahead of me.

    But at first – it just seemed as if my two-week nap put me on top of the game for once. 

Aya hadn't come with Omi and Ken to pick me up – and call me sensitive, but I figured that was a good sign that he was majorly pissed with me.  Make that _still_ pissed with me.  

    Make that _still _pissed with me – again.  

    And for the most part, the reasons for his anger with me stems from the fact that I am Youji and he is Aya, and neither shall the twain meet - or even briefly grind in senseless fun - without somebody getting impaled on a length of steel.  And not the fun sort of steel either.  

    But during dinner that night I could practically feel disdain emanating from him – in waves.  Hot waves.  With sharp edges.  Tainted with the after taste of strawberry.

    It bothered me.  

    Hell, it was my fault after all.  Aya puts off 'don't touch me' signals that a blind man could read.  In the six months that I've known him, he has shown blatant distaste for my taste in clothes, women and lifestyle.  And being the brilliant socialite I am, I start flirting with him.  He must have thought - I don't know what he thought.  Maybe that I was crazy - or that I was trying to annoy him on purpose.  I did start with annoying him in mind - but it didn't end that way.

_    You didn't start it that way either - face it you grabbed the first excuse you could find to get your hands on him._

I only flirt with women in the Koneko – not that I'm ashamed of being bisexual.  It's just – well, the world is filled with people who think it's fine, so long as they don't need to see it face to face.  And as I've said before, when your life depends on your team-mates, there are more important things to think about then how many appointments your libido makes with your right hand.  Hell - I've known Ken for a year and a half and he doesn't suspect - admittedly, it would take Ken a bowling pin, three tubs of water and a neon sign for him to get the more subtle sets of social interaction some days.  Omi probably knows – he was given full access to the notes Kritiker's analysts made, and I'm sure they red-tagged my psychological profile for his reading pleasure.  The chibi has never said anything – of course, I'm not even sure he's hit that stage of his mental growth chart yet.  Some kids are late bloomers despite their physical growth – and lets face it, between school, the Koneko and killing dark beasts, he hasn't really gotten much chance to socialise with girls.  

    The ones that swamp us in the Koneko don't count.   

I tried - I really did.  He opened the door - and I realised then that apologising wearing nothing but cotton boxers were probably a bad idea.  I tried - stumbling over the words - and utterly ruining my reputation as the man who is never at a loss for words I might add - but - 

    The look in his eyes -

    _Cold - and so completely.  .  .  _

    It was as if when he looked at me, he saw something that was not only worthless, but also completely unworthy of his attention.  Not even to scrape off his boots.

      "I -"  the words choked me, and I stared at him helplessly, "I'm sorry about - at the mansion.  I -"

He stood in the doorway, loose black pants hanging off his hips, moonlight bathing him in an ethereal white.  _Blood hair, cream skin - and you better hope he thought you were trying to annoy him.  Because if he suspects that you were groping him, death would be an escape.  Except - except - except -_

_    He's too perfect to be real.  But he is - and you know that he will never be yours.  That the most you can do is stand there, waiting for him to throw you away because you mean nothing to him.  And though it hurts, and it'll hurt, you stay there - because he's so beautiful that you can't help it.  Even if it kills you._

      Aya stared at me - and then he closed the door in my face.

      And I find myself walking slowly back to my room - depressed and cold.

    I remember lying on my bed and staring at the wall I shared with his room.  And I knew what he felt for me - I could feel his scorn as if it was a glass-edged rasp rubbing against my skin.

      That was the first time it happened.  

    By the end of the next day - it had gotten.  .  .  Worse. 

_      I think I'm going crazy._

    I caught myself getting aroused yesterday - in the middle of the Koneko.  Which in itself is not completely unusual.  Except I didn't know _why_.  There was no reason - not even the usual excuse of a beautiful woman - nothing but the sudden feeling.  .  .

    _Warmth, a slow growth.  A lethargy of sensation -_  As if I had just woken up beside a precious, beloved other early on a Sunday morning - and knowing that you have all day to explore each other's body.

    Except I've never woken up to somebody on a Sunday morning and felt that way.  The feeling wasn't _mine_.  

    And all I knew is that I had no control.  No way to stop - imagining.  

Today - oh god.

    I'm not a pervert - no matter what Aya thinks of me.  I don't date anybody still in high school - or younger than eighteen, whichever is more convenient.  

    But -  

      Every day it gets worse.

The flower store - overwhelms me.  Cold and hot - almost-sensations - running through me - as if their school-girl hopes and dreams are playing strip poker with my central nervous system.  

Every day it gets worse and - I can't stop it.

I need to get drunk.  So I can stop noticing that Omi has strange dreams or that Ken might have no sex life while he's awake, but his dreams are steamy enough to make me uncomfortable.  So I can pretend that I'm not turning into some perverted voyeur. 

    How can it be unwilling when it can make me - react? 

_"Blood will tell Youji - blood will tell.  That's why you like it when I do this - don't you -"_

    I shudder - voices from the past should stay in the past - or at least have the courtesy to appear in some markedly insane manner so at least I had an excuse to run into walls till I lose consciousness.

Getting drunk helps a little - it makes it easier to forget.  For a little while.  Or until the hangover passes.

    I can hear the thrum of their conversation beyond the backroom door.  A mild rumble - audible; on the edge of my perception.  And increasingly - the sensation of their feelings, rubbing against me.  

    Aya said take the rest of the day off - but how do I get past them? And would it matter? What sanctuary is a room that cannot close these - mad imaginings away?

    I'm a twenty year old assassin damn it - I'm trained to handle high stress situations.  Right?

      _I can handle this.  I can handle this -_

    I can cope with whatever this is.  Right - I can.  Yeah - definitely.  Can cope with this.

    And the voice that says 'liar' - I'm the only one who hears it anyway so who's going to listen to it? 

   I can handle this - if I don't need to actually talk.  .  .

    If I don't need to talk or move -

    Sometimes - sometimes - it's almost like foreplay.  It feels _good_ - and sometimes, it's uncomfortable.  But it doesn't matter which or why - because I have no choice.  I can't stop it - can't turn it off.  It feels too real to be imaginary - but if it is real then I'm going insane -

      _I can handle this.  I can - I can - I can -_

      I can't - I don't think I can.  It's getting worse every day.

    At first, it was like a burst of insight.  Then, it became continuous - and then.  .  .  And then - 

    _I knew what she wanted from me - I knew what she felt -_

    Sex and lust and hope - and it felt so good -

    I don't want to be like this -!

      I don't - I don't - she's seventeen! They're all children.

    All of them - children.  And - god - this thing.  .  .  Real or imagined - I'm reacting and - 

    I don't want to be like this.  .  . 

      What sanctuary can my room give me - is it better to know who I'm getting aroused over then lying in my room gasping my way to an orgasm? Is that supposed to make a difference? 

    Oh god.  .  .

      What sanctuary can a room give me?

    What sanctuary when being close to Aya stops me from feeling _them_? 

    His contempt and disdain and anger - when he touched me it was all I could feel.

    Phantom pain running over my skin, a high pitched squeal on the edge of hearing, razor-tipped fur piercing me - and all tainted with that hint of strawberries that is _him_.  

    It hurt - but it was all I could feel.  

      Pain is better than pleasure right? It proves that I don't want this - that I'm not bad.

    Right?

      Right?

      The wall is hard; the noise outside loud enough to hide the sound of my panting. 


	10. The clink of cutlery good natured venge...

Lust

By Tien Riu

====================================================================

Disclaimer: 

Weiss Kreuz and all characters do not belong to me.  Plot (what little there is of it ^_^) and depiction of characters are mine.  

C&C, R&R and any other derivation there of including flames will be appreciated.  

"Lust" is the first of three Weiss Kreuz stories that are determinedly yaoi (that means homosexual relationships for the initiated) and (unfortunately, since I was aiming for a PWP at the start and failed miserable) plot-driven.  For those who are interested, "Do you believe in sin?" is a short background story to this series - however, you don't need to read it to understand anything that happens.  

**Extra Note**: And the plot is back.  

Once more, thank you for all the reviews, greatly appreciated.

=====================================================================

=================================================================

The clink of cutlery - good natured vengeance

=================================================================

_Ken_

      "Manx called today."  Omi said over the dinner table.

Youji dropped his spoon - it clattered in his bowl, splattering soup; Ken looked up from his own meal.

   "What?"

   "Manx has another mission for us."  Omi repeated - perhaps a trifle impatiently - as he glanced across the table, "Tomorrow."

   "Did she say what it might be about?"  Ken asked, "Information, retrieval - assassination?"

Omi shook his head, "She said that it was a two-men mission but other than that, she just wanted us to be ready."  

    The table was silent but for the clink of cutlery.  Ken pushed his plate away.  The past month had been - good.  Peaceful.

    _Normal._

    There was a strange sort of monotony that had been vaguely satisfying with worrying about nothing more than flowers and avoiding the worse of the groping hands.  _You mean it was nice being a florist?_  

    Ken smiled down at the table - two years ago, happiness had been soccer.  The only place where his life had touched on flowers in any way had been when fans had thrown them into the field after a win or when they were delivered to his hotel room.  

   "What so funny, Ken-kun?"  Omi asked, Ken looked up and realised the youngest amongst them was staring at him.

   "Oh - nothing."  Ken replied, "The past month's been nice - hasn't it?"  he said finally when the silence stretched.

   "Mmhm."  Omi agreed, "Just like a vacation!"  he added.

Ken grinned, leaning back, "And it's all thanks to you, Yo-tan -"  he said, slapping Youji on the back, and then stopped in mid-sentence as Youji jerked backwards from his touch, falling off his chair and onto the floor; the chair followed him seconds later, thumping against the tiles, "What the hell is up with you Youji? You've been jumpy all day!"

From the floor, Youji swallowed, "Sorry.  Startled me."  He said, sweeping a hand through his hair as he looked up, "Where's Aya - by the way?" 

Ken shrugged, "Aya? He's -"  he paused, "Where _is_ he?"

   "He said he had some errands to run."  Omi said, standing up to clear away the dishes, and frowning, "Youji, are you all right?"

Youji was still on the ground, head bowed; he looked up at Omi's question, "What? Oh - yes.  I'm - I'm fine."  He stood up abruptly, "I'll - I'll be in my room." 

    Ken frowned after Youji's departing back, "That was rude."

   "What?"  Omi asked distractedly.

   "Youji - he could at least have offered to help clean up."  Ken said, stretching, "Do you think they'll cover the soccer preliminaries on the news?"

   "I think something's wrong."

   "With the soccer match?"

Omi stared at Ken for several seconds, "No - Youji."

   "Why would you think that?"  Ken shrugged, "Skipping work whenever possible is exactly like Youji."

   "No - I mean he was acting rather.  .  .  Strangely."  Omi said after a moment's pause, "Haven't you noticed?"

   "Nope."  Ken said cheerfully, "Here, I'll help you with those dishes."  He added, stacking the plates on the table up and carrying them to the sink, "What do you mean by 'strange'?"

Omi, busy with the leftovers on the table didn't look up as he replied, "Well - have you noticed how he's been - around - Aya an awful lot lately?"

    There was a moment's silence, followed by the sound of breaking porcelain.

   "Ken!"  Omi whirled around and stared, shocked, at Ken on the ground, surrounded by the fragments of their dinnerware, laughing hysterically.

   "Youji and _Aya_ - a couple?" 

   "A _what_?"  Omi stared at Ken in shock, "What?"

Ken wiped his eyes and stood up, gingerly avoiding broken glass, "Sorry - sorry - I'll clean up this mess."  He snorted, and walked off to get a broom, "Aya and _Youji_ -!" 

Omi stood there, listening to Ken's laughter and sighed.

_Aya_

      "Fujiyima-san."  The nurse looked up, smiling at the young man, "You're late tonight."

Aya nodded, "It took longer than normal to leave the store today."  He said, "Has there been any -"

The nurse shook her head, "I'm sorry, Fujiyima-san.  There has been no change."

Aya nodded, "Thank you."  He said and turned on his heel.

      The room was quiet, filled with the soft beep of machines and the gentle sigh of her breathing.  Ran sat down next to Aya's bed, taking her hand into his own and closed his eyes.  _In my mind I can see you sitting here, listening to me - like you use to.  Remember, Aya? We use to wait till Tillie and Bob finished dinner and then we'd sneak into the kitchen and you'd tell me about what happened in school while we made sandwiches from leftovers._  She always seemed to be in constant motion - dancing around the kitchen, jumping on his bed, running through the cold, marble halls of their home - somehow bringing life and warmth where none had existed before.  _And now -?_

_    Can you hear me, Aya? Can you hear me?_

    Everything he had read said it was possible that she could hear him - so he continued coming here, speaking of nothing because he couldn't tell her of the true life he was leading.  _Of the blood that stains your hands - the hands you use with her name._  He continued coming, and the silence stretched because there was no more flowers to speak of, no more books to talk about - no more studies, no more future dreams and hopes.  But he still came, because he couldn't bear to imagine his Aya trapped in the darkness, no longer dancing and singing her way through the world.  

      Aya opened his eyes, "Sorry I'm late, Aya.  I was held up at the store."  He said, "Which is not a very good excuse since we closed on time - for once.  Youji was - Youji is -"  He paused, unsure how to continue, "Youji."  Ran said finally, the name so soft it was a breath in the room, "I think - I think you would like him, Aya."  He said, "He would have made you laugh.  He would have met you one day, after school perhaps.  He would flirt with you and you would have laughed at him - but you would have said yes because -"  he stopped.

    "Because you would see something in the way he asked and behaved that I never - that I can't."  Ran whispered, head bowed, "I would have had to threaten to kill him to stop him from doing forward things with my little sister - and you would have yelled at me in private for embarrassing you."  He stopped, fingers tracing patterns over her still hand, "He -"  he stopped again, unsure of how to continue.

    _I wish you were here, Aya.  You were the one they all loved.  The one who I could talk to.  You use to come into my room and drag me out to talk to Mother and Father.  You made sure I didn't spend all my time studying or reading.  You saw the world in different shades and you made me see it your way.  Your world - where beautiful things happened, where justice was a bright, shining force - not something that creeps in the dark, bringing blood and death.  But now you're gone_.  He bowed his head, closer to tears than he would ever willingly admit.  _And I can't see the world that way anymore Aya.  I can't - not without you_.

    "Fujiyima-san?"  

Ran looked up and stared at the nurse standing in the doorway, surprised he hadn't heard her, "Yes?"

   "I'm afraid visiting hours are over, Fujiyima-san."  The nurse said.

Ran nodded, standing up, "Thank you."  He said politely before walking out of the room.

    _You didn't tell her what you were actually worried about._  Aya dug his hands into the pockets of his jacket.  _I - couldn't.  Besides - it's.  .  .  Nothing.  It's just Youji acting - strangely.  Again._

_Omi_

      Ken cast an amused eye over at the flower arrangement counter, surrounded on all sides by a sea of girls.

   "Do you think one of us should help them?"  Omi asked worriedly as he rang up another order at the register.

Ken stared at him aghast, "And make it worse?"  he asked, then smirked, "Besides, it's funny."  He said with a grin.

   "Only because we're not in the middle of it."  Omi said, but he smiled as he turned to watch the floor show.

    Since Youji had taken to working at the flower arrangement counter with Aya, there had been a definite change in the behaviour of the schoolgirls that mobbed the place six days a week.  With the chance of gaining the attention of not one but two of their idols, the crowd around the counter - usually the quietest place in the store - had grown.

    "What I don't understand is how they're getting the money to order these many arrangements."  Ken murmured as a group skipped out of the store clutching not three but four baskets of flowers.

   "I wish I knew why Youji-kun wants to work with Aya so much."  Omi said, his gaze still on the arrangements counter.

    Youji stood there, blond hair tied back in a casual ponytail that bobbed every time he moved.  Omi's eyes narrowed.  For the fourth day in a row that week, Youji was dressed - unusually. 

    Unlike the normal, tight fitting clothes he normally favoured, Youji was wearing what could only be described as 'unfitted'.  _Even _Ken_ would draw the line at wearing stuff _that _loose._  The jumper - a shade of grey that made Youji's eyes glow sickly green - hung almost down to his knees, with sleeves that drooped over his wrists.  Every now and then, Youji stopped to shake the sleeves back.  _And those jeans - I didn't know Youji _had_ jeans.  Especially jeans that don't look like they were painted on or worn out in questionable areas!_

    Something was wrong - something was _very_ wrong.

    _But what?_

    Omi absentmindedly rang up another order as he continued to watch Aya and Youji working silently at the counter.  _Silently.  There's another point.  I've never known Youji to work without talking - he likes noise._  Omi realised - and then wondered when he had last heard Youji's less-than-innocent asides, usually a stable diet when he was working during Koneko's busy period.  _Two weeks ago - just before he ran into the backroom._

    Was there a connection? _There has to be - this _isn't_ like Youji.  So - follow this logical chain - two weeks ago, Youji ran into the backroom.  Aya went in after him and -_

    And what?

    _Youji appeared an hour later, looking paler - but he laughed and joked as if nothing had changed.  Except.  .  ._

      _"Youji-kun! Aya-kun said that you were taking the rest of the day off!"  I was busy with the two seniors who were trying to get Ken's phone number.    _

_Youji ran a hand carelessly through his hair, flashing his familiar smile, "I felt better - besides, if I don't take care of the women above the age of eighteen, you might break some laws, Omittchi."  He added._

_   "Don't call me that!"  I remember smiling because it was nice to know that Youji was back to normal._

_   "Hey Youji - if you're back here to work, then work!"  Ken called from where he was surrounded by girls ordering flowers._

_Youji flashed another smile - was that smile strained, I remember that he looked pale and tired.  Youji glanced around the store, "Ah -"  his gaze lighted on Aya, trying to work at the arrangements counter while glaring at the girls clustered around him, "I'll help Aya shall I?"_

      _Why didn't I realise how unusual that was?_ Omi wondered, _Youji never volunteers to work - least of all with Aya._  

    Aya was a perfectionist - the only one amongst them that actually understood the art of flower arranging.  Which was why he was normally the one working on the arrangements.  And yet - Youji had worked there, ignoring Aya's glares and icy corrections without batting an eyelash.  _And he was there the next day.  And the next._  

    And day-by-day, Omi realised, his attire had changed as well - till loose shirts and pants and baggy jumpers became the norm rather than the exception.  _But what does this all mean?_

"_Youji and _Aya _- a couple?"  Ken laughed, surrounded by broken plates._

Omi's eyes widened.  _It couldn't - could it?_

    Manx had given him the analysis Kritiker's analysts had developed on Youji Kudou a week before Youji had appeared, still weak and recovering from the accident that had cost him his old life and his fiancée.  Omi knew Youji's tastes were far wider than he revealed with his casual flirtations in the store.  

    The psychological profile had been shockingly thorough - Omi hadn't been able to think about some of the frank comments without flushing for months afterwards.  _A year and a half - then you read Ken's._  He knew the profile of men Youji would likely fall for - _But _Aya_?_

    _Well, he is - beautiful.  In a really icy, scary way._  Omi considered, staring at the two men working side by side, his eyes narrowed in thought.

    Youji - the extroverted playboy whose idea of a good time was a noisy nightclub and drinking to excess - and Aya - the cold, taciturn man - together?  _When they said opposites attract.  .  ._  

    _Wait a second - _I_ know Youji likes men because Manx gave me his files to read through.  Why does _Ken_ know?_

      "That's it!"  the roar of conversation dropped into sudden silence at Aya's growl - emphasised by the crash as his fist slammed onto the counter before him.

   "Aya-kun - is - is everything all right?"  Omi called, _Oh god - if he kills all the girls we'll never get the blood out of the floor!_ Aya glowered at the girls before him, "There will be no more flower arrangements tonight."  He growled, "Or tomorrow.  Go _away_."  

The girls stared wide-eyed at the red head, then - to Omi's surprise - turned to look at him.

   "Ah - yes.  Aya and Youji will be busy tomorrow and as they are the best at flower arranging, we won't be taking any more orders for arrangements."  Omi said quickly, and bowed, "We are very sorry for the inconvenience."

   "Ne, Youji-kun - what are you and Aya-kun doing?"  one fair-haired girl asked as she leaned against the counter and blinked up at the taller man.

Youji looked taken back and then glanced towards Omi.  _Since when did I become the best at lying?_  Omi wondered helplessly.

   "Ah -"  he grabbed at inspiration, "Aya-kun and Youji-kun are looking for an apartment tomorrow."

      "You lie well on your feet, Omi."  Ken said thoughtfully an hour later as they stood in the dimly lit store front of the Koneko.

Omi scratched the back of his head, "It was nothing."  He said, then paused, "You do realise that this means we'll be pulling double shifts tomorrow to cover for Youji and Aya don't you?"  he asked.

Ken stared at him then slumped, "Oh yeah."  He brightened, "Hey - that means that whatever mission Manx brings, the two of them will have to take it - cause we'll have to cover them here at the store!"  he said, grinning, "I hope whatever it is involves very long stakeout sessions."  He laughed, "Can you imagine Youji not talking for longer than an hour?"  

Omi made a face, "That's cruel Ken."  He said, "Wishing Youji death by impalement like that."

Ken stared at him, then grinned, "A joke Omi? At the expense of somebody else? Our bad manners must be rubbing off on you."  

   "I wasn't joking."  Omi said - and managed to keep a straight face for all of thirty seconds in the view of Ken's shocked expression.

   "You're definitely growing up fast, chibi."  Ken said ruefully, scuffling Omi's hair as he led the way down to the mission room.

      Manx was standing before the dark television screen, Aya and Youji seated before her in silence.  Omi stared curiously at the two of them - he noticed that although they were sharing the couch, Youji was pressed as far away from Aya as he could get while still being 'close'.

    _Strange._

   "We're sorry we're late - closing up took a little longer than expected."  Omi added.

    "Is the briefing over?"  Ken asked, glancing around the room and taking a seat on the edge of the staircase, leaving Omi the sole armchair.

   "Yes."  Manx said, "No, don't apologise again Omi."  She smiled briefly down at Omi, leaving him with the sensation of having had his head patted, "The mission was open only to Youji and Aya in any case."  She continued, "The details are in the manila folder over there,"  she added, nodding to the discrete folder lying on the table, "For both of your perusals.

Aya stood up silently, "What do you wish us to bring with us?"  he asked quietly.

   "Weapons that can be concealed.  Nothing else."

Aya nodded and left as silently as he had stood; Youji stood up uncertainly, adding hesitantly: "Manx I need - I have to - I need to - to talk to you." 

Manx nodded, "I know.  Once we get to the safe house, Youji."

    And then, Youji too had left, leaving Omi feeling as if he had missed something.

   "Damn - does this mean we'll be pulling double shifts for the rest of the week?"  Ken grumbled, "I hope the mission involves a lot of time standing in one place and being bored, Manx."  He said with good-natured vengeance.


	11. Colors, Mine, Celibacy

Lust

By Tien Riu

tien_riu@yahoo.com

====================================================================

Disclaimer: 

Weiss Kreuz and all characters do not belong to me.  Plot (what little there is of it ^_^) and depiction of characters are mine.  

C&C, R&R and any other derivation there of including flames will be appreciated.  

"Lust" is the first of three Weiss Kreuz stories that are determinedly yaoi (that means homosexual relationships for the initiated) and (unfortunately, since I was aiming for a PWP at the start and failed miserable) plot-driven.  For those who are interested, "**Do you believe in sin?**" is a short background story to this series - however, you don't need to read it to understand anything that happens.  

**Extra Note**: Yes, 'Shades of Blue, Grey and Pink for the Inmate', 'Celibacy' and 'Mine' (chapters eleven, twelve and thirteen respectively) were merged into one chapter.  I discovered after I uploaded 'Mine' that I had left some errors in the writing - and when I had fixed those errors, I discovered a whole host of others.  By that stage, I figured, why not just merge those three chapters that should have, according to my previous plan for chapter setouts, been one chapter _anyway_ - except weren't based on my (rather weird) idea of suspense.  This was followed by fanfiction.net's author database system failing.  My life is echoing a farce lately.  ^-^

In any case, thanks once more for all the wonderful reviews.  

Specifically to -

_Aris2000_: I'm sorry you don't like the way I portrayed Aya.  I was worried about my characterisation of Aya.  It's hard to walk the balance for him - too much on the 'silent' side and he ends up flat, too much on the inner angst, and he ends up OOC.  I'd really appreciate it if you could comment on what you think of him in the following chapters as I try and walk that fine line a little better.

_noX_: I did a rather bad job explaining exactly what Kritiker was doing to Youji didn't I? ~_;;;~ I hope I remedied that in the corrections.  This isn't really a spoiler as I won't go any further into it in the story, but as there does seem to be some questions about it, I thought I'd mention it here.

Basically, Schuldich doesn't have the same deal with Crawford.  What Youji has with Aya is a psionic-psychosomatic reaction that can happen to _any_ psychic - especially a completely untrained, passive psychic, as Youji very obviously is.  Kritiker is using that reaction by chaining it to a secondary reaction.  If anybody knows anything about psychology, think of the Pavlovian effect - except chemically induced.  And if that doesn't make sense (~panics~).  It's a _supernatural_ story right? I can use magic as something to fill a plot hole right? ~grins~

_tmelange_: sorry about the slow speed of story telling.  It will speed up drastically after chapter thirteen.  ~grins~ I finally get to show that I wasn't lying when I wrote the summary.

=====================================================================

=================================================================

Colours, Celibacy, Mine

=================================================================

_Youji_

      The limousine might be luxurious but it is also cold - freezing actually - and decorated in shades of blue that only make the matter more pronounced.  It's cold enough that I'm glad for the all-enveloping jumper I was wearing.  Grey is most definitely _not_ my colour - it makes my tan look decidedly sallow.  I was hoping that looking less than perfect would drive some of the more shallow girls away - no such luck.  Several even tried to check my temperature.    

    I never thought the day would come when I wasn't eager to be groped by random females - or the day I defined their attention as 'groping'.  If this ongoing hallucination is sign of my impending descent into insanity, I wish it would reach a state where I could crawl into a corner, gibber and _not care_.

    Why couldn't I be the normal sort of crazy? And if I had to hallucinate, why couldn't it be of _fun_ things - like a naked demon Aya attempting to seduce me.  (As if 'seduce' would even come into it!) 

    The car is silent - and it seems an eerie repeat of that night, a month ago.  Except this time, we're in a limousine and Aya is sitting at the far end, long legs stretched out across the expanse of space.  Manx sat next to me, in a car that has enough space for twenty people - a foreshadowing of what is to come.

    She knew - before I spoke, she knew.  I don't know how and - although her knowledge says much for how much privacy we are allowed - I can't care.  Kritiker owns me - and I guess this shows that they take care of their property.   

    It's soothing - not having to worry.  Also unnerving that I can't find it alarming.  But then I'm insane - or physically reacting to the emotions of others.  Take your pick, either way I'm screwed.

      It's another mansion - slightly less well kept than the last one.  I wonder where Kritiker finds these safe houses.  The gardens are overgrown and untended; there are patches of brown earth scattered throughout the verdant green of the lawns.  

    The limousine pulls up to the front of the manor, and the uniformed chauffeur opens the door, nodding politely to Manx as he helps her out.  I can feel his lust - heat and pressure - and at the same time, I know that as far as he is concerned, it is passing notice.  Aya opens the door, stepping out from the other side - and I swear softly as I slide sideways, to keep him within that unmarked region I finally discovered after two days of trial and error.  

     If I stay within a certain range - no more than five or six meters - of Aya, the burn of his anger washes over me, diluting everything else.  Any closer and the phantom pain of his anger increases, any further and everything else crowds close, till I loose track of him.  .  . 

    Unless he touches me.  And I wish I knew why it matters to my mind whether he touches me or I touch him.  But when he touches me.  .  .  

    It doesn't matter where I am, all I'll feel is him, surrounding me: his anger, his scorn, his frustration and impatience.  It burns and flickers around me, through me – as if that single brush of skin against skin brands me.  Breathes through me till what went wrong inside my mind focuses only on him.  Crazy and illogical – but it works.    __

    I wish I knew why.  But then, it is not for me to understand, merely to know.

    Over the past two weeks I've become amazingly good at finding reasons to stay somewhere close to Aya.  Okay, so some of those reasons are more than a little dodgy – but.  .  .  It's worth it okay? Forget pride, composure and my reputation.  If I'm careful – and thankfully Aya has never been much of a social party animal or even a mildly social insect – I can get through my shifts at the Koneko, even with the worst of the hormonally influenced schoolgirls mobbing the counters.  Better yet, I can almost ignore Ken's nightly adventures – though it helps that if I'm right up against my wall, I'm on the edge of that circle of Aya-influence.  So long as Aya stays in his bed.  

    You could almost say that we're sharing the same bed, the way I've memorised his sleeping patterns.  Okay, you can't say that.  But some of us can dream.  _Or fantasize anyway._

      "Why are we here?"  Aya asked as we followed Manx.

   "I was waiting to see which of you would ask that question first."  Manx said, glancing at me.

I flushed and looked away - I hadn't been paying attention.  Strange isn't it? Balanced on the crux of insanity, and I still have the ability to feel embarrassed over unprofessional behaviour and looking silly in front of a beautiful woman.  This from a man who is likely to find himself jumped in the next half hour by men carrying a white jacket with extra long sleeves.  Then it would be off to a padded room somewhere - maybe even here in this rundown manor - for a long stint at banging my head against the wall and screaming about pink elephants.

    The way I look at it, at least in my padded room, I wouldn't have to deal with Ken's sexual adventures in dreamland - not to mention that while he might enjoy himself, I end up a rabid, frustrated Youji dancing the line between horny and depressed.  Or failing that, maybe one of the guards will be a nicely curved femme fatale - after all, padded room equals 'very big bed' right?

   "Youji."  Manx's voice brings me back to the manor.

    I stop short of walking into Aya - and only because he puts a hand on my chest to stop me.  Like I said, I've become very good at getting Aya to touch me - unfortunately, the touches are rarely of the intimate nature that I would have preferred.  Or at least I would prefer if it wasn't that his touch makes half of me wince in pain.  _Yeah, but the other half jumps up and down and ask for more_.  I'm ignoring that hereto forth unknown masochistic portion of my nature.  Well, unless Aya decides intimacy between the two of us is a possibility.  _Yeah, and pigs not only fly, they have bad fashion sense._

    I cough and say apologetically: "Sorry - wasn't paying attention."  

Manx glances at me, expression unreadable, and gestures to the door we - or at least _they _- had stopped in front of.

   "Doctor Tsukiata is waiting for you."  She said.

I re-run the conversation I had barely heard, through my head.  Aya would be getting a debriefing on the modified weapons this mission required him to use.  During that lecture, Doctor Tsukiata was going to give me a thorough physical to ensure I was truly ready for active mission duty again.

    By the inflex in Manx's words and the thread of scepticism emanating from Aya, it's more likely Doctor Tsukiata is a psychoanalyst and I'm about to keep my appointment with a straight jacket.  

    Manx nods at me and turns, walking on down the corridor, followed after a brief pause by Aya.  I watch them - and swallow the urge to grab a hold of Aya's arm, pull him back and kiss him goodbye.  I might be insane but I don't have a death wish.  Besides, when he tells Omi and Ken where I ended up, I want there to be minimal drool and slobber in the retelling as possible.

    I brace myself as I walk through the door.  So this is how it will end: Youji Kudou, insane asylum inmate.

_Aya_

      The room had a large feature window that overlooked a small wooded portion of the manor's lands.  Despite the layer of dust encrusting the glass, sunlight lit the room to blinding proportions after the comparative darkness of the hallway.  There was no more weaponry on display, as there had been on previous missions when Kritiker had required him to use something less conspicuous than his katana.  _As if this mission was normal._  

    Manx closed the door as she entered behind him, "Well Aya? You must have questions."

_This has been about Kudou – but why does Kritiker want me here?_ Surely not because Kritiker required help to disarm and capture one of its operatives.  _They ask too much – Youji is my teammate, regardless of what I think of him._

    "What is wrong with Youji?"  Aya asked - and ignored the flicker of memory of a deserted corridor and a similar question.

   "That - I'm afraid, is up to Youji to answer."  Manx said.

   "Then why am _I_ here."  Aya demanded quietly. 

Manx paused, then turned to the window, staring down at the rolling green lawn and the grey-green of the trees beyond, "It will be your task, Abyssinian, who will - remove - Balinese should he ever becomes a danger to either Weiss or civilians."  

      _No._

He was frozen in place - shocked, and unable to hide that emotion as he had all the others till they too had been lost.

    _Why?_ But he had already been told that Youji was the only one who could answer that question.  _Something happened, while he was in that hospital - something happened that changed him.  Made him -_

    Memory flashed images before his eyes - of days of shapeless clothing and a gradual air of exhaustion and emptiness around Youji.  __

      "You cannot ask this of me.  Balinese is Weiss - as am I."  Aya said finally, the words stilted, cold - despite the fact that inside, he felt anything but in control.

   "Kritiker's analysts recommended Balinese be - eliminated immediately.  His continued status is an instability in Weiss - one that Kritiker cannot afford."  Manx did not turning from her position in front of the window, "Persia - and I - do not want to loose Balinese.  He is -"  she paused.

    _He grows on you.  His irritating habits, his lack-lustre approach to work.  His bad taste in clothes and personal habits.  He grows on you.  After a while, you have to care if he dies - if one mission, a bullet takes him down and he isn't there in the morning, complaining about coffee, women or a hangover. _

    "Balinese - Kudou - Youji is a valuable member of Weiss.  Without him, I believe the team shall be weaker."  Manx finished, "The compromise that was reached was this, Aya - for Youji to remain in Weiss, there must be one of you able to stop him if he -"  she stopped - and he wondered what she had not said.

    _What is it that you have kept hidden? What is it that makes it important _now_ to watch Youji.  He is a trained killer - a feckless playboy.  A person who doesn't follow rules, flirts with anything that wears a skirt - and occasionally not if it suits him.  Why _now_ is he considered a risk to Weiss' security?_

And more than that, a part of him wanted to demand, why was _he _the one this task was placed on?

   "This is not a request, Aya."  Manx's voice was distant, "It is an order - and if you refuse, then Balinese must be eliminated today."

    "Why is this necessary?"  Aya repeated.

   "That is classified knowledge."  Manx said, then added, "It is Balinese's right to tell you the answer to your question - Kritiker will respect his privacy in this matter at the very least."  Manx said, "What I can tell you, Abyssinian, is that there have been two known subjects prior to Balinese who were injected with a similar serum.  Both died, insane, and under charges for mass murder.  Research continues and Balinese has not yet shown signs of further deterioration - but the statistical likelihood is high."

   "That is -"  Aya paused.  He wanted to say that it was impossible - that drugs could not create murderers or produce insanity - but.  .  .  _The things you have seen - the men and women you have killed, the reasons you have killed.  Nothing is impossible _Ran_._

    "Weiss has defeated statistics before."  Aya said finally.

Manx inclined her head, "The argument has kept him alive thus far but it is not enough." 

   "I am to be the safeguard? Bombay, Siberian and Balinese will not know of my task?"  Aya asked finally.

Manx nodded, "Yes."

   "Then I will do my job."  Aya said.

   "Yes."

He turned and was stopped by Manx's hand on his shoulder.

    "There will be a test, Abyssinian.  Weiss' members must be above suspicion and trusted without doubt."

   "A mission."  Aya said.

   "When Balinese is ready, bring him back here.  I will provide the mission specifics."  Manx said.

Aya nodded shortly and turned.  He opened the door and stepped out.

   "And Abyssinian -?" 

Aya paused, turning.

   "Good luck."  Manx said.

      The corridor was silent; Aya walked silently, his footsteps the only noise.  The door of the room Youji had entered was still as faded and paint-worn as it had been fifteen minutes ago.  The carpet lining the ground still as worn, and the light that streamed through the window at the far end still as grey and desolate.

    _Will he tell me if I ask?_

    There was a bitter taste in his mind - made all the worse by the fact that he suspected that once, he would have cared that the answer to the unspoken question was a negative.

      Aya leaned against the far wall, and waited.  Despite the worn out, unkept quality of the manor, the soundproofing was adequate.  He could hear the slight murmur of the unseen doctor's voice - and the occasional deeper reply that must have been Youji.  But it was on the edge of his perception - too faint for true eavesdropping.

The door slammed against the wall as Youji jerked out - so quickly that Aya had barely enough time to straighten.

Youji was angry - it was clear in the way he held himself, in the flash of his eyes.  Aya had seen him like this once - on a mission when a mistake had nearly cost Bombay's life.  Youji skidded to a halt in the corridor at the sight of Aya.

   "Mr. Kudou -!"  a short, slender man whose waist length braid of hair seemed to overshadow his stature, hurried out after Youji, "Please -"

   "Damn you."  Youji snarled, "No - _fuck_ you! You and your theories and your -"  he slammed a fist against the wall.

Paint flecks floated to the worn carpet, and blood splotched the edges of the grey sleeves.

   "Please, Mr. Kudou - you have to listen -"

The doctor reached out, Youji flinched away before his fingers could make contact.

   "Don't - don't touch me."  The words were barely a whisper; Youji straightened, hands falling limply to his side, "I understand what you said.  Everything that you said.  Is that enough for you?"  at the doctor's silence, he looked up, "I know - I will follow your orders -"

   "Kritiker's orders."  The doctor corrected.

   "Kritiker's orders."  Youji echoed.

He was clenching something in his hand - a small bottle, Aya realised.  It was filled with a blue liquid.  

    _When he hit the wall, when the sleeves of his jumper slid back - a trail of blood.  As if he cut himself -_

    What had happened in there?

   "I am - I am honestly sorry, Mr. Kudou."  The doctor whispered, and he seemed, somehow, younger than his age in that moment, "Truly sorry."

   "You and me both."  Youji whispered, "I will see you in three weeks, Doctor Tsukiata."  He said, voice dead.

The doctor bowed formally, "In three weeks, Mr. Kudou."  He said and turned, opening the door and walking back into the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

There was a slight thump - as if the doctor had collapsed against the back of the door in relief.

    Youji stood in the centre of the corridor, head bowed - his entire stance one of defeat.  The silence stretched.

   "What happened?"  Aya asked finally.

Youji looked up, then laughed as he opened his hand and stared at the bottle in it, "I'm not going insane."  He finally said.

Aya waited.

    "What - no questions? No remarks? Not even an inquiry on my state of health - mental or otherwise?"  Youji quipped, "Oh wait - I forgot, you are _Aya_ - the man capable of standing in below zero degree conditions without breaking into shivers.  Ordinary social pleasantries are beneath you."  He pocketed the bottle, and laughed - and there was an edge to the laugh, as if something inside of the man was made of glass, and a single touch could shatter it at any moment.

   "What happened?"  Aya repeated - in a different place, as a different person, he might have reached out to touch Youji, perhaps offered comfort in that shared touch, instead he took a step closer and caught the hand that had held the bottle, "Why are you angry?"

Youji stared at him, then at his hand and he crumpled.

    Aya, startled, stepped back, then forward, barely able to catch Youji and balance for the extra weight in time.

      Youji was - cold.  His hands, against Aya's chest, were cold.  His face, caught on Aya's shoulder, was cold.  And he was shaking, a tremor that vibrated through his tall frame.

   "What happened in there, Youji?"  Aya said - or tried to.  The words came out as a whisper, an induced intimacy based solely on proximity.

Youji whispered something – too low to be audible – the words translated into puffs of warmth against his skin.

    "Youji."  Aya repeated, staring down at the older man – this was not a situation he was used to handling.  This was not a situation he knew how to handle.

_    Flesh to flesh, shared warmth – to touch and to feel -_  a voice whispered in the back of his head, _Take advantage – you can make him want you -_

    _No._

Youji smiled, a broken, sharp flash of white – 

    _Now.  Take it now.  Vulnerable – you can _make_ him want you.  You can make him -_  

_    Shut up!_

    " - why did you have to be beautiful?"  Youji whispered.

And then Youji leaned forward and brushed his mouth against Aya's.

      As kisses went it was barely more than a touch.  Still Aya jerked back, dropping Youji - shocked.  

   "Don't -"

   "I know.  Don't touch you."  Youji said; he rose slowly from the ground, flipping a hand through his hair, "God how I wish that was a possibility."  The words were flippant, but his eyes were flat - broken, "I don't have a choice any more Aya -"  he laughed, it was a bitter sound, "Don't you understand, _A~ya_?"  he asked, "Don't you understand at all?"

   "No.  What are you talking about?" 

Was this what Manx had meant - was this the danger the analysts had attempted to discard from Weiss? Was Youji insane?

   _His lips were warm._

      "It's you, Aya."  Youji said, hugging his arms around his waist, "The way you talk.  The way you walk.  The way you breathe and smell and smile - if you smiled.  I thought it was a fixation, an obsession - an interest brought on by hormones -"

    Aya's mind froze.

   "But now I don't have a choice – I can't stop -!"  Youji's voice rose, almost shrill, "To die - or to live.  It's you Aya - all you."

   "I -"  Aya took a breath and glared at the man, "I don't understand."  He bit out, "Explain."  He snapped, "What are you talking about?"

Youji stared at him - green eyes flecked with scatters of brown - "You really never noticed.  Not once."  He chuckled, and the sound grated against Aya's patience, "It's everything - it's you and it was all those chemicals."  He shook his head, as if trying to clear his head, "Did you know Ken-ken has a sex life - but only when he's dreaming? Or that Omi has nightmares almost every night - except it happens so often that he's not scared any more? Or that you -"  Youji's voice broke, "Or that sometimes, you aren't angry.  For a few seconds - you are actually at peace - in your dreams before the nightmare starts?"  he shivered, "When you touch me - I can't feel anybody but you: how much you hate - me or the world, I can't tell the difference.  It hurts - but I keep wanting you to touch me.  I thought it was lust.  A fixation - but it wasn't."  

   "What was it?"  Aya asked, despite himself - despite the fact that he understood nothing of what the older man was saying.

   "That I'm yours."  Youji looked away, voice soft, "To have, to hold - sick or well.  It won't go away.  .  .  And they want to make it worse.  Until I'm yours."  

    Aya stood there, frozen - shocked - and the voice in his head whispered: _Mine._

_Youji_

      The words slipped out - I didn't mean them.  I don't think I mean them.

    I don't think that what's happened to me has changed me that much yet.  There's still time to fight this - right?

    "Until I'm yours."  

My voice seems to echo in the silent corridor that will feature in my nightmares from now on - that and the room with its silent observers watching me as if I was some sort of crazed animal they would as soon put down as keep imprisoned.

    _Lucky me - they decided I look good behind bars._

    In my pocket, the vial with its blue liquid, seems to burn - a constant physical reminder of my future.  Aya is staring at me - and I wonder what it will be like, my future.  I could have handled imprisonment - could have lived with the anonymity of a life behind bars.  I would have adapted to being an insane inmate - of gibbering and talking to things that didn't exist.  In a way, the knowledge that this surreal life of mine was about to end was - peaceful.  The worse would happen, and then it would be over.  I could have handled it -!

    I should have known my life never follows the expected path.  

      _"Hold him -!" _

_    The hands of the doctor's assistants, bands of steel holding me in place; the crack of something giving way beneath my kick - broken bones or the table leg, I can't tell, my vision is obscured through the arm wrapped around my face, keeping me from speaking.  And suddenly, I want to laugh - all these precautions to stop me from making noise.  What do they expect me to do? Scream? As if Aya would come to save me.  _

_    Sunlight - ordinary sunlight - streams through the large glass window that faces a lake.  The light glints off the needle the doctor is holding; the reservoir is filled, tinted blue._

_    Such an innocuous blue - I gag against the arm and am rewarded by an increase in pressure._

_    I can't breath -!_

_   "For god's sake - don't kill him!"  the man standing in the back of the room orders roughly._

_My eyes, frantically darting, take him in - dressed like the others, a white lab coat over every day clothes.  Spots are dancing in front of my eyes._

_    The arm relaxes and the ground is suddenly underneath my feet, I gag, choking and try and fall.  Arms catch me, holding me back.  _

_    No way to escape.  Stupid, careless Kudou - walked into this trap._

_    The doctor is next to me, his eyes apologetic.  Such a short man to have so much power over me.  It's always the little ones who surprise you isn't it? _

_    "I'm sorry, Mr. Kudou."  He says, "But this is the only way to keep you alive."_

_He really believes what he is doing - I can see it in the way he stares at me.  This Doctor Andrew Tsukiata - he actually believes that what he is doing is the best thing possible in the circumstances._

_    The urge to laugh rolls up my throat, I know that if I start, it will sound hysterical.  This - this - this is impossible.  _

_The doctor stares at me as if he expects me to say something, do something – he actually leans closer.  Where did they find him? He isn't Kritiker - surely no person trained by Kritiker would step so close to the enemy? Too easy to be attacked, to be overpowered.  .  ._

_    Except, I'm not the enemy.  I'm Kritiker-trained.  I'm Kritiker-owned.  The energy leaves me.  I said it myself - knew it myself.  I sold my soul to Kritiker in exchange for the chance to kill Asuka's killers.  _

_    Will this make so much of a difference?_

_   "This is for the best, Mr. Kudou."  Doctor Tsukiata says; his hands are small - ungloved, I notice, unlike the others - he lifts my arm._

_This is my chance I realise - there is enough slack for me to lash out, to knock him away, to break free - to escape -_

_    But would it matter?_

_    Would this make any difference?_

_    I belong to Kritiker - this is just.  .  .  a different collar._

_      The needle is cold as it slides into my wrist; I wince - but watch, silently, as the reservoir empties itself into my blood stream._

      The memory flickers, unpleasant as the dull ache of my hand and the bruises that will form where they held me down.  Aya is still watching me - I wonder if he thinks I'm insane.

    I wonder what he will do when I tell him what happened.  The chemical collar they used on me has placed my leash completely in his hands.  No choice, no warning - suddenly you are responsible for another human being.

    This must be what being told your girlfriend is pregnant is like.

    Have you ever been in a serious situation, with fragments of composure lying like so much glass around you, and felt the urge to giggle?

      "You are mine?"

Aya takes me by surprise - it takes me several moments to comprehend the meaning of his words, so flatly were they said.  

I stare at him, "Yes."

Did I mean to answer him – did I speak? I can hear the echo of my words at least – but then I can also feel the roil of his anger, a constant heat against my flesh.

He stares at me - and like all his others, this is just as incomprehensible.  I was never a fan of the significant look - not in movies, not in real life and certainly not now, with that blasted vial nestled against my thigh.

    Not when the constant star of the few dreams I have had lately that aren't nightmares is still staring at me.  Not when I can still feel his anger, a burning knot in my stomach, liquid flame trickling over my skin.  Not when the new batch of drugs they shot into me is making my stomach cramp and my head ache.  

      "Come with me."  He turns on his heel and stalks down the corridor, leaving me like some pet to follow on his heels.

    I stand there, unsure of what to do except - follow on his heels like some pet.  Humiliation will hit me sooner or later - for now, I am disgusted with the relief running through me that Aya hasn't asked for more answers, that he has taken control of the situation.

    Disgusted that all I want to do is find some corner to sit in and rock quietly in fear.

    Disgusted that I can feel myself bending to this - not breaking or flexing back, but accepting it.  Adapting to it.

    _You're tied to him, and he to you.  Isn't that enough?_

Insidious voice, whispering stupid fantasies.  I'll ignore it and continue angsting.

      Aya stops at the end of the corridor; there is a door there - the last room I would assume.  Unlike the rest, this one is freshly repainted.  There are signs of soundproofing around the frame.  He turns to look at me.

   "Stay out here.  Do.  Not.  Move."  Followed by the famous Fujimiya warning glare.

The door slams shut in my surprised face and I am alone in the corridor.  I stay - but slump against the wall, slowly sliding downwards.

    The ground is hard - but it's stable, and it ignores me so I can ignore it too.

    _Oh god._

      The bottle is small - barely longer than the length of my palm, barely wider than two fingers.  The liquid is the same shade of blue - I could really get to hate the colour.  

    Two needles, filled with the drug, taken once a week, will last precisely three weeks.  Then I will be given a new bottle to finish.  Once every three weeks for the next four months.  And at the end of that period - _" - stage, your brain will start producing the chemicals by itself.  A psionic-physiological response completely unique to your particular talent -"_  Doctor Tsukiata's voice echoes in my mind.  He had sounded so - happy - as he spoke those words.  As if he was describing the discovery of a new genetic disorder rather than - rather than - 

    _Rather than -_

_    Just say it Kudou!_

     _- rather than being made to be happy that Aya gets to control me._

      It is more than just 'control'.  It 'induces a predisposition towards obedience to anybody who focuses the psychosomatic-psionic reaction in the case study'.  A fancy way of describing my reaction whenever Aya touches me - something else that's gone wrong with my head.  He calls it _empathy -_ I have a name for it now - too bad they couldn't have just given me something to take to get rid of it.  Psychological anti-biotic.  Hah! _As if Ken's 'happy moments' wasn't bad enough -_

    _Now I might never get another 'happy moments'._

       I can just imagine life with a 'predisposition' to do whatever Aya wants me to.  _Morning shifts.  Hell daylong shifts.  Work - work - work.  Talking, smiling, joking - _smoking_! And clubbing? Forget it._

    _No sex._

    Oh god - I'll probably end up as celibate as him.  


	12. Ashes of a smile

Lust

By Tien Riu

====================================================================

Disclaimer: 

Weiss Kreuz and all characters do not belong to me.  Plot (what little there is of it ^_^) and depiction of characters are mine.  

C&C, R&R and any other derivation there of including flames will be appreciated.  

"Lust" is the first of three Weiss Kreuz stories that are determinedly yaoi (that means homosexual relationships for the initiated) and (unfortunately, since I was aiming for a PWP at the start and failed miserable) plot-driven.  For those who are interested, "**Do you believe in sin?**" is a short background story to this series - however, you don't need to read it to understand anything that happens.  

**Extra Note**: Please note that chapter eleven, twelve and thirteen were merged into one chapter known as 'Colors, Celibacy, Mine'.  

=====================================================================

=================================================================

Ashes of a smile

=================================================================

_Aya_

_      Memories of laughter; a photo of his parents standing on either side of his laughing sister crackling as it turned black from the flames; ashes to ashes -_

This - this is familiar.

_    Fire crackled, he could feel asphalt against his cheek, the edges rough.  The screech of a car as it accelerated - and the smell of burning rubber -_

No -__

_    And beneath his hand - limp and lifeless -_

No -__

_    Aya's hand -_

No -__

_The tears were scorching hot, trickling down his face - and there was blood as he looked up and caught the shimmer of light.  _

      This - this has happened before.  

      _The grass was green here, it rolled down the expense of empty landscape.  The three graves, side-by-side, words carved in marble.  Enough time had passed that there were sparse blades of grass growing from the bare soil.  _

_    There was nothing left - no tears, no grief.  Three graves were all that remained of the Fujimiya line.  _

_    A shadow fell across him; he turned.  _

This -

_   "We must leave now."  The woman - Manx, she had told him to call her Manx - said quietly._

_He followed her.  There was nothing left - but blood.  Aya was not dead.  He would not let her die._

_    The graves remained where they were, marking time overlooking the bare expanse of land.  _

    This is just a dream.

      He woke up in the chair, disorientated, and found himself staring at Youji.  The man was tossing and turning on the bed, a line of tension running across his eyes.

_"That I'm yours."  Youji looking away, his voice almost too soft, "To have, to hold - sick or well.  It won't go away.  .  .  And they want to make it worse.  Until I'm yours."  _

      Aya shook his head angrily - _He was hysterical.  Sleep deprived and working at less than optimal intellectual capacity - and this is Kudou we're talking about.  There wasn't much intelligence to begin with._  There was no logical reason he should pay any attention to Youji.  None at all. 

_"The way you talk.  The way you walk.  The way you breathe and smell and smile - if you smiled.  I thought it was a fixation, an obsession - an interest brought on by hormones -"_

Everything he had said was suspect - rambling at best, complete idiocy at worse.  

_" - why did you have to be beautiful?"  _

      He should not have paid any attention to anything Youji had said.  _His lips were warm - and you wanted what he said to be true.  You wanted him to be yours.  You wanted to own him - claim him.  To make him want you -_

    _Shut up._

Youji moaned softly, as if in pain, the line of tension deepening as he twisted on the bed.  The sheets were wet from sweat.  A brief touch on his forehead revealed no fever.  _Nightmare._

_    Helpless - even if you know it is a nightmare, you're helpless.  Watching the past repeat - again and again, unable to change it.  Or able to change it while still knowing that it is a nightmare - and futility is helplessness as well._  They were opposites, Kudou and he, but they shared this at least.  

    Youji turned again, one hand escaping the sheets; the limb brushed the edge of Aya's legs, making him jump backwards - startled though he would never have admitted it.  His hip slammed against the table.

    There was a brief clatter; he turned.  _Oh._  The picture had fallen down.  _Aya-chan._

    The last remnant of a life that no longer existed.  He stared down at it.  He had forgotten - _How could you forget?_ – the way she smiled.

    Youji groaned again, shifting restlessly, " - hot -"  the word, a bare puff of air, " - got to -"  the man twisted; the blanket slid to the floor as slender fingers grasped at the grey jumper, struggling out of its confines.  He wasn't wearing anything under it.  

    Aya was unable to look away.  They had all seen the others in some stage of undress at some point during the past six months.  It was part of the enforced intimacy they had to endure.  But this - this was different.  Youji was tanned here as well, and smooth - _No._  There were lines - pale and white, running down his side.  Star like formations of white lines - long healed bullet wounds.  _I wonder what your lovers think they are.  What distinction do you create for yourself between feckless flower man and Weiss?_  

      Youji gasped, liquid shining, briefly delineating the long lines of his body.  The window was open - he remembered, vaguely, opening it sometime in the night when the heat of the chalet had gotten too oppressive for sleep.  A cool breeze blew gently; the older man arched upwards in greeting, as sensually as if touched by a lover –

    Heat rushed to his face.  _I shouldn't be watching this._  

    There was a rustle of denim against skin - he watched slender fingers move downwards, pulling and tugging at the buttons -

    _Get out of here._

    Youji moaned softly, long fingers sliding down the bare expanse of his stomach - 

    Aya whirled, putting the photo frame back on the table – behind him there was a rustle of skin against rough cloth – he flipped the picture face down on the table.

    There was a muffled thump.  He turned and felt his eyes widen.  The jeans had followed the path of the jumper.  Glimpses of skin, golden all over - a natural tan.  Youji was starting to shiver - a faint tremor.  _You shouldn't be looking._

    He didn't stop to think why he paused to cover the man with the discarded blanket.

_Youji_

      Visions of helicopters and mountains assail me in a confusing welter of noise, sensation and fleeting memory.  Awareness returns with jolting speed that slows to a gradual halt - I can hear birds singing outside, and a cool breeze.  The blankets are a warm arch of shelter around my body.

      Eyes first.  A cautious pull on the blankets to make sure this isn't that strange dream where I wake up to find myself naked in the Koneko about to be pounced on by a hundred school girls.  

    Check for the naked, and - thankfully - the box for crazy schoolgirls can remain empty this time round.  Probably not a dream then.  Besides, it's too peaceful.

    The walls are bare, teasingly familiar in their vague resemblance to some fragment of recollection - old fashion timber a shade of warm, soothing brown.  There is an open window, with sun-bleached curtains blowing inwards with the gentle breeze.  Next to the window is a bookcase, the shelves half filled with tattered paperbacks.  

    _This is Aya's room - at the chalet in the mountains._  

    I sit up and memory returns.

      _The door swings open into my line of vision; I look up and flinch at the sight of Manx and Aya._

_    Foreshadowing of things to come indeed - if I had known what Kritiker wanted from me I would have -_

    What would I have done?

_I hope that I would at least have sidled over to Aya's side of the car.  _

_    "The helicopter is waiting."  Manx's voice - I can see the edge of her socks and heels from the corner of my eyes._

_I can't stop staring at Aya.  Strawberry tinted impatience with a healthy dose of that underlying anger that Aya emanates all the time.  Go figure, the one time my 'talent' might have come in useful, and - it isn't._

_   "The mission will be completed by the period stated."  Aya says in his low voice - there is no emotion in his words.  Nothing but the fact - but I can feel what he feels, and it is anger._

_    It is always anger._

_    He is standing in front of me.  He stares down - I stare up._

_    Did I mention how much I hate significant looks? I can never understand them.  _

_   "Where are we going?"  I finally ask; waiting for Aya to explain things is a futile gesture._

_   "The chalet."  Two words - somebody's feeling laconic today._

_   "Why?"_

_He turns as if to leave without me.  It doesn't seem so bad - I could continue sitting here in this corridor in the middle of this deserted manor.  _

_    Deserted - it sounds good.  Nobody around, nothing to come near me.  No more second-hand erotica from Ken.  No more strawberry-tinted burning Aya.  No more Omi and his - _

_    Okay, so Omi's night time forays through the grey ether haven't been that bad - _

      I - don't remember what happened after that.  

    My head hurts; a tentative touch confirms my suspicions: Aya had taken the fastest approach - and, coincidentally, the method that involved the least amount of speech and the fastest results - to ensure my 'cooperation'.

    _He'd have made a great lawyer._  

    I look around the room for signs of my elusive redheaded controller, hastily yanking the sheets around me as a slightly colder brush of air reminds me that I _am_ naked.

    _So when are you going to ask who undressed you -?_

Thankfully - for the sake of the pronounced 'bump' underneath the sheets if Aya ever figured out the cause -  Aya is not in the room.

I can't feel him.

    The almost constant sensation of his anger playing ghost-fingers over my spine is missing.  In fact I can't feel - anything.  Nothing but the crisp sensation of clean sheets over my skin.  For the first time in a month, it feels as if I'm in control of my central nervous system again.  

    For the first time in - okay, not _that_ long damn it, I might be beautiful but I am _not_ the stereotypical blond.  Besides its _honey brown_ all right? _Not_ blonde.  

    For the first time in a while it no longer feels as if I'm thinking through a thick wad of cotton candy.  _Well, welcome back IQ points.  .  .  Thank you - nice to be back.  Love how you didn't clean up after yourself the whole month I've been gone._

A glint of sunlight against glass caught my eye.  There, lying on the table - next to my watch - is the blue vial, the needle in its plastic case still attached to the side.  My fingers twitch, and I stare at the vial, reviewing my memory - stripping it of the overwhelming emotions and analysing what I remembered.  _Oh god._

    _When I decide to go into hysterics - I really do it with style.  No wonder Aya knocked me out._  I think ruefully as I reach past the vial and pick up my watch.  The solid weight feels good in my hand; I automatically check to make sure the catch that controls the wire release works as I lock it into place on my wrist.  _Think this through logically Kudou.  There are no electronic watchdogs on the vial - or the needle.  Both of them are throwaway items.  So - Kritiker has no way of knowing if you're injecting yourself to BDSM heaven.  Not if you act the way they expect you too._  

    If the missions were completed successfully - or at least, if Aya has no reason to complain about my behaviour during a mission - why would Kritiker care? They never have before.  

    _You meet Doctor Tsukiata once every three weeks over a four-month period, then your brain - or whatever - starts producing the chemicals by itself.  So you just have to fake the correct behaviour patterns in front of the expert for four months - and then after that, they'll stop noticing.  Right?_

    Or at least stop paying too much attention.  It was a convoluted riddle: _What's the difference between _acting_ like Aya controls you and _willingly _allowing Aya to control you?_

    I can live with role-playing submission to Aya's dominance - so long as I don't have to _like_ it.  So long as it isn't _real_.  Besides, Aya has to sleep sometime - and even if it's a little adolescent to sneak out the bedroom window.  .  .  Hey, if it means I can get laid, I can deal with being clichéd.

    But I can worry about that later.  .  .  If this - talent - returns.  Currently the only thing playing merry havoc with my skin is the breeze and the sheets - and it feels so _good_.    

      I dress slowly in the chill mountain air, glad that my less-than-logical approaches to avoiding human contact meant that I was protected from the cold.  It might be late summer down in the lowlands, but in the mountains it feels like late spring or early autumn.  

    My thoughts turn to Aya - somewhere in the chalet.  Even if - for the first time in a month - I can't feel the burn of his hatred.  I - know he is here.  Logically right? Somebody had to have undressed me - and unless my previous fantasies of a naked demon Aya are true, that same person left me to sleep off the headache he induced in his bed.  _In his room._  

    I still at the thought.  Aya is an intensely private person - even oblivious Ken-Ken figured this out fairly early on.  I know about as much on the inner working of Aya's mind as I do about physics - maybe less.  But there are hints you can pick up from what a person wears, his choice in food, his hobbies.  His bedroom above the Koneko hold no mystery - if there's anything in there that shows a sign of who he is underneath all that ice other than that anger, I've never seen it.  But he spends almost as much time in his room here at the chalet as I do in mine when we come down for a weekend.   

    The books aren't surprising.  When he isn't working, glaring at us or sleeping, Aya reads.  The range of languages are - Russian, German, French and - _Latin? Who reads Latin?_ - are intriguing, but considering his scholastic approach to free time, it's not that far out of the range of possibilities.  The glass photo frame lying, face down and forgotten, on the bare expanse of the desk next to the bookcase is however, a complete surprise.  

    I lift it up; the picture is creased with white lines - as if it spent a long time folded sometime in the past - and too small for the already-small frame.  But the colours are still strong - hidden away in this room, far from sunlight, no fading has occurred yet.

    I stare at the girl whose smile blazes from the dusty surface.  She's pretty - in a young way.  Doesn't look older than sixteen: her hair in pigtails and a school uniform I don't recognise - probably a private school.  _Girlfriend?_

    I remember - perhaps for the first time in a way that matters - that Aya is nineteen.  And I am twenty - twenty one this year.  Our youth - for want of a better word - seems as much a lie as the image we project so effortlessly to the girls that flock to the Koneko.  Between the shadows of night and the scent of flowers, it is hard to remember that Aya hasn't reached his majority, Ken is barely legal and Omi still has to graduate.

    It is not impossible for Aya to have had a girl as young as this as a girlfriend.  _How old were you when Kritiker swallowed you whole Aya?_

    Young enough to have a sixteen-year-old girlfriend?

    It's a disconcerting view of a different Aya.  _It's a vision of Aya who might consider having sex!_

    I need to get laid - this month long abstinence is obviously destroying my ability to concentrate.  Either that or I can't think of Aya without thinking of sex.

      The practise area takes up the only area flat and wide enough for the purpose - the attic.  Kritiker modified it for that use back when Omi requested a secure, dependable vacation house for Weiss' use - a couple of weeks after Aya joined us.  There are fluorescent lights embedded in the bare beams but they have been left off, leaving the area shadowed but for the light streaming through the sole, small window at the far wall.  It is cold here - as it is everywhere else.  I wonder what happened to the central heating.  Even the grey jumper can't stop the chill.

    The katana is sheathed, leaning against the far wall.  He is standing in the pool of light; hands flash, pale light against dark shadow, as he moves them in a motion too gentle to seem normal from Aya Fujimiya.  The sunlight dilutes the brilliance of his hair - funny how the light up here in the mountain always seems so much more - white.      

      I recognise the kata from my own stint with a Kritiker instructor.  _Tai chi_ rather than _karate_, _kendo_ or _ioeka_.  The stance is for meditation rather than concentration - 'physical peace' was the phrase my instructor described it with.  My methods of drowning thought involve more nudity but judging by Aya's expression, it works for him.

    He looks - less tense.  _At peace._  It - disconcerts me.

    I've come to realise that the control - the ice - of his demeanour hides an intensity.  Perhaps I would never have realised if this 'talent' hadn't started ruining my life, because my discovery stemmed from the constancy and intensity of his anger.__

    It is disconcerting to realise that he can feel something other than anger - that he can show _any_ emotion at all, especially peace.  So why then, if emotion rests so uneasily on his shoulders, has he never looked more beautiful - _To me.  .  ._

    Aya freezes, I can see the tension stiffen his shoulders.  His hands drop - and I feel it.  The shiver of sensation against my skin.  _Aya.  .  ._

    Somewhere, I can smell the faint scent of strawberries - heated and warm, a rush that trickles down my spine.

    By the time I can meet his eyes fully, the heat of his emotions has burned away the cold from my skin.  So my 'talent' didn't go away as suddenly as it appeared.  _But at least I know that if I get far enough away from other people it'll stop - sort of like the reception for my mobile._  

    I swallow a chuckle as I imagine Aya perched on top of a mobile tower, transmitting signals to the little receiver in my head.  _Wait a second -_

    _I couldn't sense anything from him.  Not until - not until when?_ _Not until I came into the room - no - not until he stopped._

    This was important - there was something here.  Every single one of my returning brain cells were clamouring of the significance of this finding.

    _So - if everybody meditates, I can get on with my life like normal?_

    _Argh - you're an idiot Youji Kudou._


	13. Controlled lies and miso soup

Lust

By Tien Riu

====================================================================

Disclaimer: 

Weiss Kreuz and all characters do not belong to me.  Plot (what little there is of it ^_^) and depiction of characters are mine.  

C&C, R&R and any other derivation there of including flames will be appreciated.  

"Lust" is the first of three Weiss Kreuz stories that are determinedly yaoi (that means homosexual relationships for the initiated) and (unfortunately, since I was aiming for a PWP at the start and failed miserable) plot-driven.  For those who are interested, "**Do you believe in sin?**" is a short background story to this series - however, you don't need to read it to understand anything that happens.  

**Extra Note**: Please note that chapter eleven, twelve and thirteen were merged into one chapter known as 'Colors, Celibacy, Mine'.  

=====================================================================

=================================================================

Controlled lies and miso soup

=================================================================

_Aya_

      The blank numbness fled; he allowed his hands to drop to his side and turned.  Youji was standing there, barefoot, the grey jumper dangling past his hips in folds that echoed the loose fit of his jeans.  Clothing so completely out of character for Youji that he seemed a different man in them.

    "Where did you get the clothes?"  the question slipped out before he could stop it.

Youji stared at him, "The - I -"  he shook his head in confusion, "Why do you want to know?"

_I wish I knew._  Aya mentally shook the thought away as he scooped up the katana.

   "Why are we at the chalet?"  Youji asked.

Aya turned; the older man was sitting on the floor, one leg stretched out across the floor.  

    Youji leaned back, "Aya -?"  

_Slender fingers sliding down sleek skin glittering with sweat in the morning light - how easy it would be to take advantage, to take before he could refuse, to claim what might be offered before it could be taken away.  I can make him want me; to touch and rub and soothe the ache -_

    "Aya?"

_Would he arch and moan like he did this morning? What would happen if I -_ Aya clenched his jaw.  

   "Damn."  Youji swore softly, and sighed, "So you're angry at me again.  Figures."  He leaned back, tilting his head up at the ceiling, "You know - if you don't talk to me, I'm just going to stay here till you do right?"  a slight flash of a smile touched his lips, "Hey I could practise my English! There's this new singer from America that the schoolgirls like - Brit-ta-ne-ay Se-pe-a-ra-rs."  He said, drawling out the name.

Aya winced as Youji started singing what sounded like 'oops I' and the rest of the words too badly mangled by what had to be an intentionally bad accent to understand.  

    Youji arched an eyebrow at him then, shrugging, stretched out his legs and lay down on the ground, hands behind his head, still belting out the song lyrics.

    It was too easy to superimpose the memory-vision of Youji, lying on the bed, arching upwards as he tried to free himself from his clothes.  Too easy to slip into fantasy and imagine - other things.

    Aya felt heat rush to his cheeks, he turned hastily away before Youji could see and guess - the man might be feckless but he was as good an observer as any of them.

    His hands were clenched - he stared at them in shock.  _Control - I can't loose control._  He drew the katana out of its sheath.  The blade caught the light of the sun against one gleaming edge as the sheath landed softly on the ground.  Youji paused in his singing, then continued.  

    Aya swallowed and began working through the drills, as he did every morning - as he had already done this morning.  

    _Focus.  Strength.  Knowledge.  Control._  

    By the time Youji had shifted to another tune, he could feel the calm return in the ache of his muscles, the sweat that clung to his skin.__

    _Will you tell me?_

    "What did you learn from Doctor Tsukiata?"  Aya asked; the older man's voice paused, came to a stop.

   _Will you trust me?_

   "Why do you want to know?"  his voice was low, serious; _Scared._

   "It is a matter that affects Weiss."  

The first form was focus - and focus was derived from strength, knowledge and control.  Each step a brief introduction - a stance - of the following forms.  The first stance was - _Strength._  

   _You want him to trust you - why?_

   "This has nothing to do with Weiss."  Youji whispered, the words almost too low to hear, "It is my problem."  

Aya did not answer; the second stance flowed smoothly into the third - _Knowledge._  

    "Damnit! This is - it's my business all right?"  Youji said angrily, "We don't ask why you're in Weiss - why the hell should this be of any interest to you?!"

    In his mind's eye he could see the man: hair tinted gold in the light, green eyes clouded with thoughts.  Youji would say what he would say - eventually.  The man liked talking.  _It is a question of what he tells me.  Where is the answer I need?_ Aya almost expected more incomprehensible English song lyrics, but the older man shifted restlessly and began again.

    "The drug 'Fluffy' and his helper pumped into me - us - whatever -"  Youji said softly, "It did more than knock me out.  .  .  I've been having - weird reactions.  Lately.  Since I woke up.  Kritiker's doctors finally figured it out."  Youji continued, "The chemicals activated a portion of my brain that normal people don't use.  It - I -"  he sighed, "I don't understand it completely.  Doctor Tsukiata calls it empathy.  I - my body - reacts to the emotions of others.  I can feel what you feel -"

    His concentration flickered.  _Feel what I feel.  .  ._

    "It wasn't noticeable - when I first got out of the hospital.  Just - hunches.  I was always good at hunches.  But - it got worse."

He knew, from the rustle of sound, that Youji had sat up; knew that the man was looking at him.  _What does your talent make you feel when you look at me?_  

    Third stance became fourth in a single slide - knowledge was control.

    "They don't know what will happen if I - loose control."  Youji said distractedly, "I think that's why they want something to control me.  In all the - things that happen, I never asked why they wanted to -"  he trailed off, then started again - Aya cast a glance in his direction, whatever the older man was looking at it couldn't be found in the dark, dusty practise room of the chalet's attic.

    "He -"  Youji paused, then sighed, "I - my brain reacts strangely to you Aya."  He said finally, "It - likes you."  _What?_ Aya turned, the katana flashed; Youji blanched, "Not like that!"  he said hastily.

_    He's blushing._

    "Explain."  

    "I can't stop - reacting - to everybody's emotions.  It's like - this thing has a switch and I can't turn it off."  Youji bit out, voice flat, "It's - everywhere.  After a while - it's overwhelming."  he released a breath, the sigh loud next to the brief rub of Aya's feet against the wooden floorboards, "When you touch me -"  The last, a whisper - Aya wasn't sure if he was meant to have heard it, "It gets better - when you touch me -"  

    _Skin slick with sweat, and he moans as I trail my hand downwards -_  Aya cut the thought off and moved swiftly through the first stance again, speeding up the motions till there was only a blur of light and speed - _gasping in need, body arched in one single smooth line - and when he cries out my name I know he is mine -_

    Youji was speaking - unaware of the thoughts running through Aya's mind.  _Stop thinking about this -_ But he couldn't.

    "- I don't know why - but when you touch me - when you're close - everything else slides into the background and all I can feel is you.  When they figured out what was happening, Doctor Tsukiata created a serum that chemically enforces a secondary reaction based off my - talent's response to your proximity."  Youji continued, and his tone turned flat, expressionless, "It -"  he stopped again.

    _Breath hot as it feathers against my skin - pressed so close that there is no distinction between me and him.  Entwined -_

Aya stopped, gritting his teeth as he forced his mind away from its train of thought.  He turned, scooping the sheath up in one fluid movement to sheath the katana.

   "What does it do?"

Youji looked at him, startled, green eyes wide, "I -"  he shook his head, "You know the problem with you Aya? You don't give off any signals.  Half the time I can't tell if you're listening or just not telling me to shut up!"  he grumbled.

   "What does it do?"  

Youji sighed, drawing his knees up against his chest in a graceful motion, "It increases my predisposition to obeying -"  he said as he looked up, eyes glowing green in the preternatural dark of the attic as they met his; his voice caught, a soft gasp that was barely heard, a breath in the silence: " - you."

    _He wants you._  A small voice noted quietly.__

    Control was derived from knowledge.

    _I know._  

_Youji_

I'm sure I had more or less decided to follow through with my vague idea of flushing the contents of that blasted vial down the closest toilet.  But when he looked at me, and asked me - I _couldn't _lie.  

    I'm good at lying - I had a talent for it even before I started living a double life.  Good enough to lie to myself for years - you can't get any better than that.  But - I couldn't today.  This morning.  When he looked at me - I couldn't.  And that worries me because the only other person I was never able to lie to was Asuka.  And Aya and Asuka have nothing in common to create the same reaction.  Right?

    Okay, so they have names that start with the same letter - but other than that there's nothing that's the same.  I _loved_ Asuka - I'm only in lust with Aya.  

    Obviously it's left over effects from Doctor Tsukiata injecting me with that serum yesterday.  _Stop thinking about this Kudou - you can't find the answer and you don't want to._

I wonder what I expected his reaction to be.  Disgust? Amusement? Some scene out of the collection of porn I have stashed in the back of my closet? Stupid of me to expect him to react in a predictable way.  Aya Fujimiya - the snow flower himself - _react_ to normal human stimulus? 

    He turned on his heel and left the attic.  It doesn't take a genius to figure out what Aya thinks of me - and any interest I might have in him.  I wonder if he noticed.  You can never be completely sure with Aya.  Most of the time, you think he's as oblivious to those subtle social hints as Ken.  Then, he says or does something that proves your assumptions wrong.  It's the silence - there's something about waiting for answers that never come that makes you - me - fill in the empty spaces for him.

    _So either he's not interested enough to notice - or he noticed and you can now infer one reaction Aya Fujimiya will be exacting out of your hide if you bring this up again._  The first time he'd been two steps short of dislocating my shoulder, this time he had looked one step away from using his katana.  In retrospect, bringing it up - even obliquely - while he had his sword in hand was a bad idea.  But then, this has been a bad idea from the start.  If I had even a modicum of control over my own body I would never have started lusting after him in the first place - and then maybe this.  .  .  This - _thing_ - wouldn't matter so much now.  _But you are, and it does - so what do you do about it Kudou?_

    I wish I knew.

Eventually I leave the attic.  The darkness and quiet makes me - antsy.  I really don't see what Aya sees in his retreat.  How can he find any peace here? The silence just makes the voices all that much louder, the blood all that much brighter.  

    The chalet is silent; the place has always struck me as too large for four men to use exclusively as a weekend getaway.  It needed a family - children to change Aya's sanctuary into a noisy playground for rainy days.  Parents to make full use of the luxurious outdoor spa Ken insisted on.  Some extended family to fight and make up in the empty rooms.  I snort as I realise the twisted path of my thoughts.  _And where will any of us fit in that little picture of familial bliss you got there, Kudou?_  Probably waiting for Omi's signal to take the 'tomorrow of another dark beast'.  

    I pat my jeans down and wish I had remembered to buy a new packet of cigarettes yesterday - the day before yesterday? - before Manx had arrived with the latest mission from hell.  

    Outside, the sun is shining, and it is eleven - one hour gone and how many more to go before we leave? Ordinarily I would have taken the vacation for what it was - an escape from having to do shifts at the Koneko - but.  .  .

    Aya never does something on the spur of the moment, there has to be a reason why I'm at the chalet rather than in an oh - maximum security hospital somewhere.  Considering the way I was acting, I'm surprised he didn't do worse than knock me out.  Well - only one way to find out.

      He was in the kitchen cooking what looks like miso soup.  

   "Sit down."  

I stare a little but I can't find Aya's abrupt methods of communication in any way startling any more.  Call it over exposure for want of a better description.  I sit.  The chair is cold. 

    The sun filters through the small window set over the stove, it dilutes the intensity of his hair, making it less red - more pink.  Somehow, that fact doesn't make him seem any less masculine.  Strange that - you would think that with his eyes, form and hair, he would be mistaken for female occasionally.  But there's something about him - a combination of how he moves and holds himself - that requires more than just light and shadow to change perception of gender for the unwary.  Even if he is too beautiful to be real.

    Aya is singularly beautiful.  And I pride myself on being a connoisseur of that particular human trait so I didn't come to that conclusion from lusting after his body for six months.  There is an elegance, a grace to his body that is simply classified as beauty, irregardless of time, country or culture.  

    Well except maybe the African tribe that finds long necks and large earlobes pretty.  

    The first time you see Aya - after you've convince yourself that he's actually real and that grabbing him and running for the nearest vertical surface is a bad idea - you wonder what sort of genes produced somebody like him.  And if that sort of - _perfection_ - is a family trait.

"Eat."

    I stare as he puts a bowl in front of me, hot curls of steam drifting upwards.

And after you get to know him - hah! - you start wondering if he has any single relatives who have even a modicum of knowledge on social niceties.  

The smell of hot soup curdles my stomach - that and the ever present burn of Aya's constant emotional state.

   "Why are we here Aya?"  I ask, pushing the bowl away.

    "We are here because there is a mission."  Aya doesn't look up as he speaks, just continues drinking his soup.

   "A mission."  I parrot, unsure of what else to say - which is not a situation I've found myself in very often but give me a break, there are mitigating factors involved here.

   "Kritiker is testing us."  

A cold trail runs down my spine.  _Testing me._

   "What happens if I fail?"  the tone is flippant - I am good at lying.

Aya doesn't answer; we sit there in silence, he quietly finishing his breakfast - me staring at him.

   "Our target is Imina Tsukushi."  Aya says finally.

   "A woman."

   "Yes."

      Imina Tsukushi had been the research assistant to Ikudo Tamahino till one month ago when she killed him.  Yes _that_ Ikudo Tamahino - the scientist Kritiker had suspected of developing mind altering drugs for the purpose of creating perfect soldiers and the instigation for the _last _mission from hell.  

    Three weeks ago, Kritiker's last operative team - the ones sent to replace me and Aya after 'Fluffy' incapacitated us - had managed to solve the mystery.  Tamahino's male impotency (or should that be _potency_) drug had the side effect of increasing capability of a human mind to accept and effect subliminal messages.  While it did not create perfect soldiers immediately, as far as at least three separate terrorist organisations were concerned, it couldn't do anything but help.    

    Two weeks ago, Edo Incorporated had hired a young scientist named Mina Tsukino to continue Ikudo Tamahino's research in male impotency.  The picture of Imina and Mina matched completely.  They had been _very _sure of escape from prosecution.  Edo Incorporated was the same subsidiary of Telco Org that had caused Kritiker to question Tamahino's research purpose.  The CEO was one Kinama Jsi, brother to the Minister of Defence, Lucius Jsi.

    Kritiker wanted Tsukushi - or Tsukino as she was now known - exposed for her crimes.  But more than that, they wanted the notes for the creation of Tamahino's drug destroyed and any evidence of Kinama Jsi and his brother's collaboration in the creation of mind-altering drugs.

    This was the sort of mission that would normally be given to other teams.  Weiss is rarely brought in for what amounts to infiltration and information-gathering missions - especially since Aya's arrival made us one of the very few lethal teams Kritiker controls.  But then, this isn't just an ordinary mission - this is a test.  But what are they testing - my ability to deliver a successful mission? Or my ability to obey Aya's orders?

    _And does it really matter?_

      Aya left me in front of the large screen television in the living room with the mission tape and another thick folder of paper to read through.  The cover we are to use is the same as last time - two lovers, entering Mina Tsukino's first research population based on a previous invitation to join the late Tamahino's research.  Too bad we don't get the all expenses paid trip to some pacific island this time.  

    I wonder how Aya will react when he realises lovers generally touch each other with intimacy in mind - even in public.  _I wonder how far I can go before he uses his katana on me._  

    I lean back on the couch, the papers spread out in front of me, and close my eyes.  Maybe I felt tired because the cold has always made me sluggish - or maybe I felt tired because I still hadn't caught up with my sleep debt.  Whatever it was, I wondered how long before Aya would return and we'd leave for Edo Incorporated's headquarters in Kyoto.  

    He's standing in front of me with a suddenness that makes me wonder if I had nodded off by  mistake.  I stare at him,  heart suddenly pounding in shock.  We can all move quietly when required - it's only Aya who makes it a habit of doing so _all the time_.    

    Then I notice what he's holding in his hand; I wonder how I couldn't have noticed it before.  The vial - glittering blue in the low light the television in stand-by gives off.

    "I -"  

_    What happens next?_ I wonder, almost expecting him to grab my arm - and a small voice at the back of my head asks if I would fight him.

    Some part of me urges me to run - to leap over the back of the couch, to use my wire and run.  Leave the chalet, leave Weiss.  Just run - away from this slavery by any other name and find a place and time where I can be a normal human being who doesn't feel other people's emotions.  _Who doesn't have the blood of others staining his hands._

    And another part of me knows that I can't.  I am Weiss - as he is.  As we all are.  Where would I run to? 

    "This does not control the reaction."  Aya says - it isn't a question, it is a fact.

I shake my head, "No - it just adds a -"

He turns and walks into the kitchen, ignoring anything else I have to say.

      He was standing at the kitchen sink when I walked in.  The syringe was unsealed, full reservoir casting blue shadows across the metal counters.  He didn't look up as he emptied the syringe methodically into the sink before plunging it back into the vial to refill the reservoir.  

    I must have made some noise because he turned to look at me.  There is no change in his expression, he turns back to his task.  

_"This does not control the reaction."_

"Why?"  my voice is small, tinny - it's strange the confidence and arrogance that has been part of the image I have shown the world for so many years is so easily stripped away whenever I faced him.

Aya pauses, I know he heard me - then continues his task, question unanswered.  _Does he not want me to know why he is doing this? Or is it that he doesn't know himself?_   

    This is a good example of why I don't understand him: he communicates in some strange unfathomable code composed entirely of mercurial mood swings, one syllable replies and glares.  

    And the result is that only one thing is clear in this surreal little experience: both of us are lying to Kritiker.


	14. Of Avoidance and Violence

Lust

By Tien Riu

====================================================================

Disclaimer: 

Weiss Kreuz and all characters do not belong to me.  Plot (what little there is of it ^_^) and depiction of characters are mine.  

C&C, R&R and any other derivation there of including flames will be appreciated.  

"Lust" is the first of three Weiss Kreuz stories that are determinedly yaoi (that means homosexual relationships for the initiated) and (unfortunately, since I was aiming for a PWP at the start and failed miserable) plot-driven.  For those who are interested, "Do you believe in sin?" is a short background story to this series - however, you don't need to read it to understand anything that happens.  

**Extra note**: My solemn, sincere and heartfelt thanks to **Briar Rose**, who beta'd Chapter 14 into something far greater than what it would have been had she not been around.  So - if you liked this chapter, it's because of her splendid work (and any problems are the fault my less than fantastic writing skills ^_^).  

Enjoy - and please review?

=====================================================================

=================================================================

Of Avoidance and Violence

=================================================================

_Youji_

      The trick is not in avoidancebut in _evasion_: think not of the subject but on anything unrelated to it.  After all, avoidance acknowledges existence, consequently preventing the possibility of denial.  Particularly salient facts I coached into catchy maxims during my time at the orphanage.

    Thus, on the subjects of one Aya Fujimiya, the prolonged period of celibacy I am currently experiencing and Kritiker's desire to either control my brain or test my ability to function as one of their operatives, I have no answers and do not wish to search for any.

    An unfortunate impossibility however, when the central figure of one subject is seated at the other end of the limousine, dreaming the dreams of the unforgivably beautiful.  

    Aya Fujimiya - stunningly attractive, mysterious (not to mention mystifying, inexplicable, incomprehensible and just plain _annoying_), capable of out-angsting even Ken with a glare,  deadly with a katana and much to my chagrin, straighter than his own sword.  The source, cause and subject of my obsession and the uncertainly defined guardian of my sanity.  

Kritiker - in the form of Manx - reappeared less then an hour after Aya had finished emptying the vial down the kitchen sink of the chalet.  There was no time for explanations.  Not that I expected much - but there should have been _something_.  An explanation was probably too much to hope for from Aya, but a schedule of touching (in my dreams - or _Ken_'s at any rate) or affirmation that keeping close proximity would not result in eventual evisceration would have been - nice.  

    I watched throughout Manx's description of Kritiker's cover identities (the apartment, the car, even a brief back history from Tokyo to Kyoto two minor agents with superficial resemblances to both me and Aya created the old fashion way).  There was nothing to show - no twitches or changes in facial expressions (I'd have settled for a sign of something beneath the thick layer of ice embedded in his eyes) - for the deception he - we - have started against Kritiker.

    And this coming from a man trained to notice and decipher the small signals of body language.  Not to mention an untrained empath.  

    Only Aya Fujimiya could out-emote an empath.  

Manx drove us to the first security point herself, briefing us on the itinerary we were to follow and the security procedures required at the other check points.  Kritiker has increased security since the 'Fluffy' incident.  She left as soon as the Kritiker-approved driver and limousine arrived - complete with luggage and identification papers (falsified despite the fact that both Aya and I would be using our own names - truth buried beneath lies, is there a safer hiding place?).  

    The luggage took twenty minutes to go through, the papers another half hour to memorise along with our cover identity.  There is a method to Aya's madness - the intensity of his mission focus ensures that what would have taken Omi, Ken and me half a day to fully amalgamate, took less than an hour in his presence.  

    Another example why not one of us questioned his unofficial role as leader of Weiss.  I do not understand Aya Fujimiya - lust after him, think of him constantly and undress him mentally occasionally but understand him? I wonder if anybody does - even Kritiker's psychoanalysts.  And yet - despite this - I follow him without question during missions.  Trust, it seems, does not always require proof - or even a common point of conversation.

_That_ comes from the assassin, former police officer - and florist.  

Hey - have you ever seen what it's like during rush hour at the Koneko? Some of those schoolgirls can flirt for free flowers, argue over prices, short change and drool over Aya at the same time.  Nobody ever told me being a flower-man would rack up as many close-contact injuries as professional soccer (Ken again).  

_On the other hand, Omi said profits definitely go up whenever Aya wears something vaguely form-fitting to the store.  .  ._

_Oh_ - I want to be around when Aya finds out about _that_ particular statistic.  

      We left the security check point at midnight.  That makes it six hours - most of which was spent in silence.  Aya drifted off to sleep an hour ago after several hours of staring out the window at the scenery (houses, trees, more houses, some roads, a few cars, the occasional town, and a couple of curious cows).  

It's strange but in the six months I have known Aya, I have never been in a situation where he has been so - vulnerable.  Strange way to describe sleep - but truth when it comes to Aya Fujimiya, a man who feels only anger but exudes ice.   

He looks younger this way.  Calmer.  The sensation of his emotions - scalding against my skin and twisting through my stomach - belie that particular impression in much the same way ice coats still waters but then, no-one can help how they feel when they dream.  

    If they could I would have strangled Ken by now and claimed self defence.  

    Aya asleep is probably something that very few people have seen.  Knowing he is sleeping, or that he is _going_ to sleep is one thing - seeing him just as he wakes is another.  But watching him sleep - there's something oddly - intimate - about the fact.

    I wonder what dreams wander through Aya Fujimiya's mind.  Even asleep, he exudes the heat of anger, frustration, hatred, irritation and strawberries - unlike Omi and Ken whose emotions are constantly shifting around a steady whole, even when they are asleep.  Except - well, except that one time, two weeks ago.

    Aya had been - happy.  Or very close to it.  For one brief moment, there was no anger.  It was - different.  

    The heat ceased to burn and gradually, warmth spread.  And throughout - strawberries.  _Drowning in strawberries._

    The sudden cessation of hurt is the razor edge between pleasure and pain - as comforting in its way as it is shocking.  

    It took my breath away - left me with a raging hard on till Ken's latest round of erotica began.  

    _And in the end, you were almost relieved when the pain came back - because then at least you would stop feeling so filthy._

_Aya_

      He knew he was asleep - but the knowledge was distilled and distant.  He knew he was remembering the past - but that knowledge too was separated from his conscious.  

_He was young.  It was dark.  He was meant to be asleep.  The air was cold against his face.  There was a door in front of him.  The rustle of cotton pyjamas against skin.  These facts filtered through his mind, creating the scene._

_    The door opened to a hallway that stretched out on either side - long and cold.  Moonlight streamed through windows that lined the hallway - muted by the light that shone through the banisters of a staircase.  _

_    He was standing, staring down between the bars of the banister.  They stood far below, she on the edge of the stairs leading upwards, he on the floor beside the first step.  He did not see them often.  But she would sometimes sing lullabies to him - and occasionally he would stop to pat him on the head._

      He recognised them - knew them as well as he knew himself.  A voice offered their names - but most of the words drifted away before he could catch them.  _Fujimiya_.

_    They were speaking; he could hear their voices if he concentrated._

_    "He's not mine.  Not with eyes and hair that colour."  _

_    There was water on her cheeks, the light shimmered as if tiny stars dotted her skin.  _

A distant voice whispered: _She's crying._  But the voice was faraway - he was a child, and she an adult.  Adults did not cry.  The voice did not belong to a child - and though he knew, dispassionately that he was remembering the past, to his consciousness, he was a child and the past was now.

_"Whose is he?"  he asked; she shook her head, "Damn you."  _

_    He turned and walked away.  She turned as well and continued walking up the stairs.  He knew he would be caught - out of bed, not sleeping.  These were punishable offences for the young.  But he stayed, waiting.  _

_    She was at the top of the landing, staring down the hallway at him.  Then she turned away and walked away.  _

      There was no transition between sleeping and waking.  Aya opened his eyes and found himself staring out at the rapidly passing scenery.  There was a brief moment of disconcerting disorientation before his memory reported that they were still travelling from the chalet.  By the increase of light outside the tinted windows, no more than an hour had passed.  He glanced at his watch - it was six in the morning.  

    "Sleeping Beauty awakens."  Youji drawled.

_A night's sleep seems to have returned him to normal.  Or as normal as Kudou ever gets._  _Of course now you have to deal with being alone with him again._

    Aya turned to glare at Youji, who smirked from his perch at the other end of the limousine, "Pleasant dreams, Aya?"  at Aya's silence he continued, "What - no fairy tale princesses and dragons to save with the mighty powers of the Fujimiya-patented glare? How 'bout fluffy kittens?"  he mocked, "Not sex either - or you'd be in a better mood."  Youji added thoughtfully. 

   "You can see what others dream."  Aya said, forcing his voice to be toneless.

   "With everybody else - no problem.  With you?"  Youji scoffed, "The fates would never be so kind.  As far as I can tell, all you ever feel is anger, hatred, frustration, irritation and occasionally rage.  Oh - and strawberries."  

_    Strawberries?_

    "Which has got to be better than Ken Hidaka's Erotic Exploits - at least two shows per night."  He said with a twisted grin; he paused, glancing at Aya expectedly.

    Aya remained silent.

    "My best guess is that you dream you're surrounded by screaming school girls every night - and you never realise you're dreaming till it's too late to kick them all out of the store and use the hose to cool down the ones that keep groping -"  

    Aya turned back to his view of the passing landscape.  In certain moods, Kudou seemed capable of separating mind from mouth.  The result was nonsensical conversation - normally devoted to the topics of sex, women, more sex and possibly what he had seen (and occasionally _done_) at whatever club he frequented the night before.   

    "Oh come on Aya - we've been travelling for _hours_ and I'm _bored_!"  Youji's tone might have been pleading, but his eyes glowed with laughter over the edge of his sunglasses as he continued, "Talk to me! Tell me something - anything -! About dreams - everybody has dreams."

Aya ignored him and the prolonged moan of feigned misery.  The landscape flashed by through the darkened windows of the Kritiker owned limousine.  What would he have said even if he was inclined to talk to Kudou? He did not dream.

    _Ice, death and blood - where is there room for dreams in this nightmare?_

_Youji_

      And we're back to staring out the window and watching the oh so fascinating scenery go past.  As far as I am concerned, if you have seen one tree, you have seen them all - and as for life stock? I used up my quota for viewing pastoral scenes - complete with animal shapes chewing vegetation - before I turned seventeen.  

    I hate the country, I hate small town life and I especially hate being trapped with no way out.  

    At least the driver isn't playing footsie with the accelerator.  

      Not that I'm admitting any of that to Aya - he already knows too much.  And the worse part is that _I _was the one who told him.  Ripped my bloody heart out and bared my soul.  

    Well, okay, maybe not that far - but closer than anybody else since Asuka.  And she doesn't count; she was - well, _Asuka_.  

    Nobody else was supposed to get this close ever again.  Nobody.  The last time I gave up everything I had to stop _him._

_What if this time you don't have anything to pay your way out?_

Stupid voice - stupid past.  Repression works fine for other people - but I've never been able to get the hang of it.

      I hate feeling this - uncertain.  

    Not about my future - hell, I've lived with the knowledge of my mortality since before Weiss.  You don't get promoted through the police force that quickly without knowing how to use a gun.  

    And certainly not over the improbability of getting Aya Fujimiya horizontal (or vertical or any mixture in between) with me, some silk sheets and a jar of strawberry jam.  

    It's this power he has over me.  

    He's seen it.  He's seen how far I can fall; caught me and dropped me - literally.  

    And what's worse is that nothing changed.  Nothing at all.  My world went the way of cold porridge - I was five steps away from pink elephants.  He put it back together - fixed the porridge, killed the pink elephants and made sure I slept.  I'd be on my knees thanking him - but as far as he's concerned, it was just part of his job.  Taking care of the useless idiot who got in over his head again.

    God I hate feeling like this - especially when I start questioning my abilities.  

_"Soft - you're very soft, aren't you You~ji? Soft and so very  - beautiful.  .  ."  _

_Hands trailing down across my skin; and fear so entwined with helplessness that it transcends both emotions.  _

_    "You don't ever need to be hard -"_

_    The knowledge a bitter psalm in my mind - this was what I had wanted.  What I had prayed for.  A place - and love.  Wasn't this love? _

_    "Just do what I say and you can stay - forever."_

_    I've searched for that word all my life - 'forever'.  _

_    "Won't that be nice, Yo-chan?"_

And I hate memories that won't leave me alone.

_Aya_

"So."  The woman had blond hair that shimmered with pink highlights under the unfading fluorescent lights.  

Aya found his gaze caught by the strange tints in her hair - why was it that 'dark beasts' routinely hired strangely attired employees? In normal business practise, unusual coiffures were rare - especially in a supposedly respectable research and development company like Edo Incorporated.  _Perhaps we should stop relying on Kritiker's researchers and search instead for businesses with strange dress code standards._  

    "So."  Youji drawled, leaning forward slightly, "When do we get to meet your boss?"  his lips quirked into what Omi had once referred to as Youji's 'make the girls squeal' smile; today, the flash of white seemed forced.

The woman noticed as well - she frowned, uneasy, and that was unusual for Youji could charm females effortlessly.  The fault seemed in the easy grace as much a part of Kudou as his ever-present sunglasses and smoking.  _He isn't wearing his sunglasses, and he hasn't smoked since before the chalet._  As if those two objects held up the third, Kudou was uneasy - the motions too.  .  .  _Forced._

_He's trying too hard._

    The woman smiled in automatic response, "I'm afraid Doctor Tsukino is unavailable for interviews, Mr. Kudou.  However, the Public Relations Department is -" 

_    How can you tell?_

    "Please - call me Youji."  Youji murmured, leaning back in the chair, "I think you have - misconstrued - the reasons for us being here."  He added, "I - that is to say - we -"  he glanced at Aya, smile turning softer - _Softer?_ - "We've travelled a long way to talk to her about - well, about her research."

_    I watch him too much._  

    Once he might have ignored the voice that questioned his knowledge, now, while they began the first delicate steps in their investigation, he accepted it.  

_    What of your promise to Aya-chan? What of waiting? You said that when she woke, Ran and Aya would continue as they always had - step by step through life, together. What of your promise? The one you swore you would never break?_

    The woman paused, then frowned, "Wait - Kudou and Fujimiya -"  her eyes widened, and she glanced at the computer screen, fingers moving with competency and speed over the keyboard, "Ah - you are listed as two potential candidates from earlier trials."  

    _I - I am not Ran.  _

   "We are -?"  Youji glanced to Aya, the feigned surprise an obvious ploy to pass the conversation to him.

    "Mr. Fujimiya?"  the woman prompted.

Youji was staring at him, green eyes bright with mock anger and confusion.

    "It was a surprise.  You were very - unhappy - about the -"  Aya paused and added delicately, " - condition.  Doctor Tamahino's experiment seemed to promise the greatest possibility of success."

    "Condition?"  the woman asked uncertainly, glancing from Youji to Aya, "I am afraid I don't understand -?"

    Youji swore lightly under his breath, "It started five months ago -"

   "One year, Youji."  Aya said - corrected - quietly; it sounded rehearsed - perhaps that merely added to the image they projected.

Youji glared at him, " - one year ago."  His voice was a low growl - _that _at least was not feigned, "I - just couldn't you know?"

    "Couldn't?"  the woman's eyes widened in understanding, "Oh."

_    Ran died on Aya-chan's hospital bed._

   "It got better - then worse.  And nothing we tried fixed it.  Then Doctor Tamahino invited us to participate in the experiment - but then, it didn't look like there was a problem and we forgot to tell him and then -"  Youji shrugged uneasily, "But we heard that Doctor Tsukino was continuing Doctor Tamahino's experiments - and well.  .  ."  he trailed off, glancing at her thoughtfully, "We really do need to talk to Doctor Tsukino - about joining the experimental group."  He said, attempting a smile that looked strained.

_    If I don't care - if it means nothing - if I'm not Ran - then the promise isn't broken._

    The woman leaned back in her seat, thoughtfully tapping a polished nail on the edge of the metallic desk.

_    So the answer is not to feel.  Just - take.  Don't feel.  Merely take._  _He wants you - _

_He wants _me_._

She smiled finally, "I am afraid that it is impossible for you to meet with Doctor Tsukino today,"  she said, "But - I can arrange a time for you to meet her tomorrow at nine.  And I can almost guarantee that you will be accepted into the experiment's research group again."  

    _Take him because you can.  Take him because it won't matter.  _

    Youji flashed a smile then turned to Aya; to an outsider, the smile was one of shared emotion.  He knew it was a lie - an act, created for the purpose of projecting a specific image for others.  

_    Take him because Ran is dead and Aya-chan won't wake up.  _

    Aya nodded to the woman - whose name he could not remember - and waited till Youji had risen from the chair before bowing formally.

   "Thank you for your time and help."  He said; this too was part of the unwritten script.

Youji grinned, feigning unrepentant ignorance of manners.  His cheeky smile was answered by the woman's flush and self-conscious touch to her unconventional hair style.  Aya touched Youji's arm in a gesture that probably looked affectionate to the watching woman; he allowed his fingers to brush Youji's cheek - another scene to the act they portrayed.  Youji smiled - but there was a puzzled expression in his eyes.  

    _He doesn't understand._  

    It didn't matter.  

    _What is your answer, A~ya?_

    Aya had already made his decision.

_Yes._

_Youji_

      Another corridor - another day in the warped, distorted life of one Youji Kudou.  It seems as if lately, I spend most of my time walking down corridors - and other than changes in colour and the occasional potted plant, they all seem exactly the same.  Monotonous with a decided lack of beautiful women - well yes, there's Aya but straight men with sharp implements don't count.

Our steps are slow as we walk calmly down towards the elevator at the end of the hallway.  I can tell the exact moment we both slip out of our cover identities and become Abyssinian and Balinese.  Loud - in my ears at least - our footsteps converge, we are walking in time.  It is not a trick Kritiker can teach to operatives - though they try.  Being able to sound like one rather than two or four requires more than theory and dancing lessons.  It's something to do with timing - knowledge of why and when a person moves.  Omi and I picked it up after a year of working together, Ken took slightly longer.  Why doesn't it surprise me that Aya managed in the half year we've known him? 

    If he weren't an assassin - if he were not Weiss - 

    I can't imagine someone who is so _natural_ at death and bloodshed being anything as innocuous as a delivery boy or a salary man.  Then again the same can be said for me.

   "One minute."  Abyssinian says; I've already broken the lock of the storage room with a simple hard - _twist_.__

    He brushes past me - the sensation of strawberries and heat spreads through me - and the door closes behind him silently.  The motion took less than five seconds - without a break in stride.

    Fifty seconds.

    And I am walking down the corridor - alone but for Aya's emotions, a scalding caress trickling over my body.  

    He_ touched me -_  

    The receptionist seated at the desk at the end of the corridor hasn't looked up yet.  

    Thirty seconds.  

    Her head lifts up as I continue down the corridor.  Behind the expensive façade of the bar that runs across the mock-wood of her desk, a computer is flashing the ETA of our arrival and departure from her realm.

    Fifteen.  

    My hand reaches into my jacket.  

    Ten.

    It is light, the size and shape of the human end of a car alarm.

    Five.

   "Hi."  I flash a smile; she smiles back - but it doesn't reach her eyes.  

    Zero.

    The alarms go off.  The receptionist rises in surprise - then fear as a digitalised voice recommends immediate evacuation.

The corridor is suddenly filled with people in suits, all looking surprised and panicked.  I can smell strawberries - and Aya.  Not a scent so much as a sensation - as if he is near, or around me.  His warmth burning my skin, twisting through my stomach.  A white-hot iron branding my flesh.  I can feel him - rather than them.

    It's a good thing at least one of us has a handle on my so-called-talent.  I didn't even think about what it would be like to be trapped in a crowd of panicking professionals.  Probably worse than lust-crazed schoolgirls.  

    "Please use the stairs in an emergency -"  somebody - possibly the receptionist - called over the rush of noise.  

She is drowned out in the stampede of voices and human flesh - it is easy to slide past, unseen and into the storage room.  We had been unsure how easily I would be able to make it back without notice.  My primary mission had been to distract them if they tried to find Aya before leaving the building.  _Take that Kritiker - goal reached and nothing more required then good old sneakiness._  

    "Five minutes before security start sweeping the floor for anybody left behind in the -"  I blink.

The small area is filled with brooms, a vacuum cleaner, a small trolley containing five toilet rolls, a bottle of disinfectant and a large plastic bin painted a garish shade of yellow.  Aya, however, is missing from the ensemble.

    He knew that I would know the second he moved -

    Unless he touched me.  

    Or brushed past me.

_Idiot! You should have known -_

As if Aya would ever willingly touch me without some ulterior motive.  

    More important than my ego: as if Aya did anything without a reason.  _So, mister hot-shot detective you can deduce two things from this.  One, Aya is out there, without backup, doing god knows what.  Two - he didn't trust that you wouldn't screw up whatever he's doing, to tell you.  _

    Four minutes, twenty seconds - and then I stage the 'where is my gay lover' portion of this fucked up plan.  Which means it will be six minutes and forty seconds before we get back to the car and I can practise severe, gratuitous violence to his arrogant head for _doing_ _this_!

====================================================================

**A/N: Please review? If only to point out my gaping plot holes?**


	15. Histrionic Henchman in a Bedroll

Lust

By Tien Riu

tien_riu@yahoo.com

====================================================================

Disclaimer: 

Weiss Kreuz and all characters do not belong to me.  Plot (what little there is of it ^_^) and depiction of characters are mine.  

C&C, R&R and any other derivation there of including flames will be appreciated.  

"**Lust**" is the first of three Weiss Kreuz stories that are determinedly yaoi (that means homosexual relationships for the initiated) and (unfortunately, since I was aiming for a PWP at the start and failed miserable) plot-driven.  For those who are interested, "**Do you believe in sin?**" is a short background story to this series - however, you don't need to read it to understand anything that happens.  

**Extra Note**: As promised, all of chapter fifteen ('Histrionic', 'Henchman' and 'In a Bedroll') is out.  Right in time for my 21st birthday.  [celebrates by starting the PWP scene of "Lust" ~grins~] Wish me luck - this will be the very _first _time I'll ever have a hand in a PWP scene.  [0_0]  

As always, thank you for the reviews - much appreciated! 

Incredible amounts of praise, thanks and worship to **Briar Rose** who beta'd and helped chapter fifteen become what it is at the moment.  From my hysterical '_Help! Help! I think I lost my ability to write "Lust"! Help!_' message through to inordinates amount of flattery to enlarge my ego, she not only coached the chapter along but stopped me from bouncing off the walls (and all this over the internet - ^_^).  Any mistakes are my own - everything else is her wonderful work.  ^_^  (I feel like I should add something new here - because **Briar Rose** really deserves much more credit than a few lines of text - but I can't find anything more to say so - [bows]: Thank you **Briar Rose**!)

Answers to reviews at end of chapter.  Enjoy!

=====================================================================

=================================================================

Histrionic Henchman in a Bedroll

=================================================================

_Youji_

      My watch mocks me as the last seconds vanish with the sweep of the hand.  I am left standing in the storage cupboard cursing Aya in two languages and wishing I had worked a little harder at Mandarin so I can do so in a third.

    No Aya.  No additional orders emerging from my memories.  No bloody idea what to do next.  And a slow and growing realisation that killing Aya might be a _good_ idea - but I would have to get him out of the building alive first.

    _Damn you Aya._

    The least he could have done was give some indication of what he wanted me to do - cover his back, slip out without him or kill everything in sight.  _Well, hopefully not the last._

    Why is it that even in high-stress moments, I can't be serious? It would be easier if I could have hysterics without quipping jokes.

The security guards are probably on the floor by now, methodically checking the rooms for any remaining would-be evacuees.  

Not 'probably' - _Definitely_.  Kritiker's analysts were thorough - and the security of Edo Incorporated is not the sort that sees security guards drinking coffee and playing _mah jong_ while assassins walk past the window. 

    No really - true story.  Siberian's first mission - he still goes bright red when we bring it up.

      _What are you going to do, Kudou?_

    Two security guards, checking one side of the corridor each.  One room taking, on average, twenty seconds.  If Aya is following the mission specifics (and given that this is Aya it's pretty much a guarantee) he will be in that woman's office.  The guards will reach the closet in thirty-five seconds (with three seconds deviation on either side of the average) - the office in two.  

My memory of the schematics throws up an air duct overhead (actually so do my eyes) - the reason why we chose this floor and this closet.  I can leave now, or even hide up there.  In that case, the guards will reach Aya in forty seconds.  Does he need me to stall them? Should I run and rendezvous at the car - standard Weiss procedure on infiltration missions.  I froze in my hesitation.  I might not have been able to feel anybody but Aya - somewhere, smoothly doing his work with that ever-present underlying anger - but my other senses were working overtime with the increase in my heartbeat.  I could hear the click of footsteps beyond the closet door.  _Shit._

    There was time to hide; time to create a distraction.  _Shit._

    There was a lack of time to think - certainly no time to panic.  _Where's the smart assed detective now? Asuka and I used to get in and out of problems like this _all_ the time._

    It was no wonder Aya hadn't trusted me to do anything other than stay in the closet.  

    _Stop moping and start thinking you idiot -!_

    _Okay.  Panicking gets you killed._  First - and last lesson Asuka taught me.  There is no place for sentimentality or emotions when guns are involved.  _Okay._

    My task (on the assumption that Aya hasn't already slipped out of the building and is currently plotting my demise for making him wait) is either to keep them occupied or kill them.  Either way, I'm buying Aya time.  At least - I think I am.

    It was no wonder Aya doesn't trust me to do anything other than stay in the closet.  

    _Stop moping and start thinking you idiot -!_  And in the back of my mind, the part that is planning a way to tie Aya up, hide his katana and possibly drug him, curses him all over again.  _He had to touch me didn't he.  The one time I could have used being bombarded by unwanted emotions -!_ (Of course, if I had Aya tied up with no access to his katana.  .  .)

    I can act - (look, I lead a double-life, my previous career was as a detective and I _like_ having a varied sex life - you do the maths) but even an actor needs some sort of idea of the scene.  _So - hysterical lover? Or hapless moron who got lost on the way out?_

_Aya_

      The office was silent, bar the gentle hum of the computer.  Aya waited patiently.  Technology could not be hurried - it was human fallacy to believe otherwise.  

     Tension sang through him - a remembered ache from times past.  

    _This - this - remember this - remember - remember -_

    It was similar - but not - to the silent watchful wait prior to the appearance of the first guard.  The first stroke, the feel of metal gliding through flesh and bone - burned through his body as this through his mind.  The difference between the final violation of death brought upon a body - or a computer system - was found in the stain it left on the flesh - and nothing more.

    _This - this - once - _

    He watched, detached, as his fingers entered the final commands - a gentle stroke across the keyboard.  

    _This was once your future._  The computer beeped quietly.  Aya withdrew the disk and checked the replacement cable once more before sliding the original into the dust-ridden depths beneath a filing cabinet.  

    He would have preferred to remove all evidence - but being found with a computer cable would destroy their cover.

    The office was sound proofed.  That was obvious the moment he stepped out of the door.  Aya filed the fact away.

      " - Aya! He's missing!"  

Youji Kudou - voice pitched for hysterics.  Aya watched quietly for several seconds.  _He's good._

    For the time he had been Weiss, he had become well acquainted with the image that was Youji Kudou.  The man currently distracting the two security guards held no resemblance to the one he had known for the past six months.  

    It should not have surprised him how the former detective excelled at this particular aspect of their double lives.  _He lies well._  

    _There is more to Youji than any can see._  A voice whispered, _He has secrets._  It mattered not - all people had secrets.  Weiss more so than most.  He was a secret - protected by lies and misdirection with no-one knowing the truth.  Not even he.  _He wants you - he wants _Aya Fujimiya._  He wants the assassin - the murderer with blood-stained hands.  He wants - and wants it freely._ __

    Something twined through his stomach, an insidious whisper of intent: _Take the secrets away, strip them from him - and what remains.  .  .  What remains will be yours - and yours alone._

    But that thought was for later.  Much later.  

    _Mine and mine alone._

      " - I couldn't find him _anywhere_ - and then the door wouldn't open and now he's missing - and oh god what happens if he got killed and -"  Youji continued, arms waving around.

The two security guards were attempting to calm him down even while they tried to keep a distance to avoid the flailing limbs.

   "Sir - sir! I am sure your -"  the security guard paused, "Friend?"  he asked uncertainly.

   "Lover!"  Youji sobbed, "Aya - oh Aya what happens if -"  his voice pitched and broke.

The guard winced, " - lover - is fine.  He is probably with the rest of the evacuated workers.  If you would just -"

   "No - no - he wouldn't leave without me - and I can't without him -"  Youji declared melodramatically, "Aya wouldn't -"

The second security guard was pulling out what looked like a tranquilliser.  

    _Mine._

"Calm yourself."  Aya said.

The security guards turned, surprised - and possibly shocked at his sudden appearance.  Youji, face unseen by both men, glared at Aya, before forcing his expression into one of relief.

   "Aya!"  

And Aya suddenly found long arms were wound around his waist and a head resting on his shoulder.  

   "I am going to kick you from here to Cape York."  Youji hissed; breath tickling Aya's ear.

   "Sir?"  the first security guard asked hesitantly, "You are Aya Fujimiya?"

Aya inclined his head.

   "This building has been evacuated - where were you?"  

   "Toilet."  Aya said shortly, "I -"  he gritted his teeth, " - got lost - searching for Youji."

Youji released a decidedly theatrical sob, "I _knew_ you wouldn't leave without me!"  he wailed, "Oh I _love_ you so much _didums_!"

The security guards were silent, then the second said, voice pained, "Kyoko - _please_ take them down."

The first security guard - Kyoko - nodded, "If you would follow me, sirs."

Aya nodded shortly; by his side, Youji tucked his head against Aya's shoulder and made his breath hitch as if he were recovering from a crying jag.

    He should have found it annoying - it was certainly Kudou at his absolute worse.  _Mine._

      To give Youji credit, he waited till they were in the anonymous sedan Kritiker had provided as part of their cover before exploding.

   "What the hell were you doing?!"  Youji's snarl was emphasised by the bang as the door slammed shut with unneeded force.

Aya turned the key and listened as the engine turned smoothly over; the low vibration ran through the car.  These were things that were controllable - a simple chain of cause and effect that needed no conscious thought to predict or activate.

    The car moved into the flow of traffic as Aya spun the wheel with an easy motion of his hand.  Inside, the silence was stifling, unbroken even by the growl of a city beyond the metal framed glass of the windows.

   "Great - the silent-Aya-treatment.  Like _this_ is new."  Youji muttered, shoving back into his seat with enough force to make the metal creak, "Damn you Aya - you could at least _tell_ me what the hell you were doing back there! I deserve that much -"  he cut off furiously, "I'm not your subordinate damnit - I'm your _teammate_.  The distinction - in case you didn't get it - is that I'm your _partner_.  We are supposed to work together! It's the bad guys who have henchmen!"  he slammed his hand against the dashboard, "You should have told me what you intended to do!"

The instructions the Kritiker agent had given them had been precise but verbal.  Youji had shown signs of a near photographic memory during previous missions.  _His ability to concentrate was impaired, even then._  Aya switched three lanes to turn into the required road; behind them, cars hooted angrily and traffic jolted onwards.  _Weiss cannot protect Kudou if Balinese cannot perform._  

    "You should have known."  He said finally

Youji turned to look at him, "Yes - my ability to read your mind has obviously improved.  Everything you think is as clear as if it were written on your face."  He said sarcastically; and then abruptly, the anger drained from his body, "Fine - whatever.  You probably have some inscrutable reason for _not _telling me what you intended to do."  He said through gritted teeth, "Go ahead and keep the secret - it's not as if me knowing anything really matters after all." 

    It was - unexpected.  This was not how Youji Kudou acted; he was supposed to remain affronted.  They would reach the apartment provided by Kritiker for their cover identities and Youji would stalk off to smoke and kick the wall.  He was _not_ supposed to suddenly - _Give up._

    Aya caught a glance of Youji out of the corner of his eyes; the little colour in the older man's cheeks had vanished, leaving him pale_._  Ahead, the lights changed to red and the sedan rolled to a halt.  The buildings lining the road were apartments and town houses.  Crowds of people trailed past, caught up in their separate distinct worlds.  Several wove through the cars.  Youji flinched once as a young woman strode past and paused to glance through the clear windows of the car at the two of them.  She flashed a smile, bright and flirtatious.  

    Youji reached into the jacket's inner pocket and drew out his sunglasses.  They hid the dark circles still etched beneath his green eyes.  His slender fingers, Aya noted silently, were shaking as he crossed his arms and stared fixedly out the window.  _Exhausted._

    The traffic lights changed from red to green, the cars began moving - the girl stole another glance before hurrying across the street.  

_Youji_

_      My life sucks._

    I feel as if I just finished a five-day drinking binge on the morning Omi scheduled me in for morning shift and I am dying for something to smoke - if only to keep myself from nervous pacing.  I'm exhausted - but sleeping is about as possible as getting rid of some of this tension with gratuitous sex. 

    The flare of frustrated anger, lust, hate, love, fear, happiness - and every other possible emotion you could think of - woke me at four, an hour after I had finally managed to get used to sleeping while my central nervous system insisted ghosts were walking up and down my back.  It is now noon and I am still hyper aware of every emotion being radiated in a one block radius.  The apartment is on the fourth of thirty two floors - making it nine hundred and ninety eight people too many.  

    The floor is cold beneath my bare feet.  The living room is cloaked in darkness but for shards of light streaming through cracks in the curtains.  Dust motes fall, a drifting, never ending dance.  The silence echoes in my ear - an uneasy counterpart to the constant sensation running through my body; I shudder.  Somewhere, a baby wakes and starts to cry.

We are in the small apartment Kritiker assigned as part of our cover for the mission - or test.  They even included packing boxes - still unpacked - to hold up our cover story (that we had moved to Kyoto to join the experimental group).  I wonder what's going to happen the first time somebody realises that neither Aya nor I recognise a single item from the supposed two years of cohabitive bliss (hah! I should be so lucky) we have enjoyed together.      

    I pace; if I keep moving, I'll forget.  Maybe.  Or - get tired enough to not care.  _Where are you Aya?_ Unbidden, my eyes go to the closed door on the other (Kritiker, you sadistic bastards) side of the living room.  It's still shut.  I can feel him in there; not moving any closer.  _Out of your reach Kudou.  Completely out of your reach._  

_Aya_

      Aya stared at the blank laptop screen.  _Sleep.  The answer was sleep._  Youji's behaviour was determined by sleep - whether this was due to his new 'ability' or simply the demands of physiology mattered not.  _He needs to sleep._

    A truck rocketed down the street, its horn breaking the silence; Aya frowned.  He could not take Youji to the chalet - there was no time.  Kritiker would not wait.  

    _Your choice now, A~ya -_  the voice whispered, _You must make your choice _now_._

    _Leave him - tell Kritiker that Balinese cannot be as he was before.  Not without - more._  

    Balinese - and Youji Kudou - would vanish and a new agent would complete Weiss.  _Abandon him - keep yourself safe and let Aya Fujimiya continue as before.  Murderer, blood-stained and ice - nothing will touch you._

    His fingers hovered over the black keys.  _Or take what he offers.  If he is _yours_ then he is yours to protect.  Give him what he needs to - function as he must._

    It was not a choice; Aya touched the pad on the laptop and began the mission log.

    _And he will be yours forever._

_Youji_  
      "What do you need to get through this mission?"  

I blink, and for several seconds almost believe that I have just experienced my first vocal hallucination.  

   "Youji."  The low growl and a surge of strawberry impatience - sign one that Aya is loosing what little patience he has.

I look up - he's glaring at me again.  Life is normal.  For once however, there's an expectancy about his glare - so he wants me to answer.  I lick dry lips and try to concentrate.

   "What did you say?"  

   "Youji."  He is still glaring at me - and my concentration is shot, because he has been speaking and I barely noticed.

   "I - what do you mean?"  I finally managed after rewinding the past few seconds through my head.

He steps forward, and I take a step back more in reflex than any actual fear.  He continues forward, till I'm backed up against the wall.  The wash of his emotions jerks the world back into focus - and I close my eyes, breathing in the scent of strawberries and warmth.  

    When I open my eyes the world is dominated by violet eyes.  He's so close to me that his hair brackets my vision.  _Shards of red.  _

   "I need to know if you can fulfil the mission criteria."  

_He had to choose _now_ to decide to use proximity as an intimidation tactic didn't he?_  Forget that I would jump his bones if he didn't have that pesky sharp katana masquerading as a wall ornament over his bed.  _Not to mention that my pride doesn't like it when the person I'm sleeping with looks at me as if I'm something he stepped in and he doesn't know if he should try clean me off or throw his boots away._

   "Of course."  I snap, "And get the hell away from me!"  but I don't push him away; the apartment is too large.  I haven't been in the 'Aya' zone since we left the elevator fifteen hours, thirty minutes and forty-seven seconds ago.  _Who's counting?_

    He stares at me for several seconds; then steps back and walks away.  He completes it with the usual speed and grace that marks everything he does - fast enough that the returning flood of emotions elicits a gasp of shocked reaction from me.  I grit my teeth, and realise he's watching my reaction.

   "I can handle it."  I snarl, and discover that my arms are curled around my stomach.

Damn.  

    This wouldn't have happened if he hadn't reminded me what it's like not to have these - _things_ - playing with me twenty four hours a day, seven days a week.  If he hadn't, I'd have been fine - I had adapted right? But he dragged me away from it - and I got used to sleeping for more than several minutes at a time and - 

    _Damn._

   Suddenly I'm too tired to think and closer to tears than I'd ever admit.  Youji Kudou _does not_ cry.  Or show signs of weakness unless it might get him laid.  And we all know how interested Snippy the Ice Man is in anything to do with sex.  Especially sex with me. 

    I lean against the wall, tilting my head down to stare at the floor and wish that the people next door would stop fighting - or go yell at each other at the other side of the city.  Hell, just down the street would be fine.

    "I can handle it."  I say - and I know that the words are too soft, that there's too much weakness showing through but it's about the best that I can manage.

    Somebody is having sex - several floors down probably.  I'm too tired to even care, too tired to get aroused as little shivers of pleasure wrap up and down my spine.  _I want to be drunk._

    Except Kritiker had forgotten to stock the mini bar with anything more alcoholic than ginger ale.  

    My life sucks - no, it _swallows_.  

      His hand on my shoulder; his fingers are cold but at the same time, they burn.  The warmth spreads with the scent of strawberries, blanking out the other emotions, replacing it with a heat.  It feels like - _A blanket.  A scalding blanket._  My stomach cramps, but the rest of the world suddenly vanishes.  _Keep touching me._  When he did, I could imagine that the world was somehow normal again.  

    I stare up at him, my eyes wide, "Why?"

Seems like the only question I ever ask him.

   "You said that your mind -"  he pauses, then continues, "'Likes' it when I touch you."

_Perfectly good double entendre going to waste here._  A small hysterical voice giggles quietly in the back of my mind.  I hush it - in a world filled with people _feeling_ all over my body, he was the only one who could stop it.  It didn't matter if Aya wasn't interested in sex, I'd settle for him just touching me once in a while.  _You're pathethic Kudou._

   "Yes."  I finally manage, "It - likes it.  It blanks out the other emotions - with yours."  Maybe it was my imagination, but he seemed to flinch slightly when I said that, I file it away for future consideration - if it stops him from touching me, I'll learn not to say it.

   "Will it be enough for you to fulfil mission objectives?"

I nod silently.  And it doesn't matter that he's only touching me because failing this mission will be a problem for Weiss.  Not at all.  _Liar._

    "How long do the - effects - last for?"  

   "I don't know."  It wasn't as if I had ever been able to do scientific tests.  "Three - maybe four hours."

He hasn't stopped touching me yet.  And we're close enough that I hope my hormones don't choose this moment to start working overtime again.

   "And if you're close to me?"  

My mind goes blank and all I can do is stare at him - again.  I finally manage to choke out some semblance of the logical reply: 'almost as good as being touched'.

He nods, "Move your bedroll into my room."  And turns - letting go of my shoulder - walking away as calmly as if he hasn't just twisted my world around.

    Or told me that I'd be sleeping in the same room as him.  _He's not interested in sex with you remember?_

    My life sucks.  _And don't you wish you even had a chance to swallow?_

    I'm going to move my bedroll and try and get some sleep until my sense of humour goes back to normal and ceases this warped behaviour. 

=====================================================================

**Fancy **- I misspelled Aya's last name? 0_0 (Fujimiya right? That *is* how you spell his last name...  Right? [runs off to check])

**Kyou **- you all wait for me to update? I have actual followers? 0_0 [enlarged ego grows yet again ^_^]

**Tmelange **- I did promise that "**Lust**" would be finished.  Not to mention the two other stories remaining in the trilogy that "Do You Believe in Sin?" was a prelude to.  ^_^ 

My HP story is just easier to write at a faster pace.  "**Lust**" has a completely different style, and is definately more mature with increasingly involved themes.  Besides of which, for every four scenes I write for "**Lust**" I seem to delete three and a half (on average).  My file of deleted scenes is almost as large as "**Lust**" itself.  

By the way - ~heh~ cookies to anybody who remembers where Youji pulled the 'didums' from.  ^_^

In any case, see you all for chapter sixteen - when we finally get some PWP! Okay, so there'll be a *reason* for the (at last!) sex - but let's not let that get in the way of enjoying some good ol' Youji and Aya smut.  ^_^

Sincerely,

TR


	16. Reflected

Lust

By Tien Riu

tien_riu@yahoo.com

====================================================================

Disclaimer: 

Weiss Kreuz and all characters do not belong to me.  Plot (what little there is of it ^_^) and depiction of characters are mine.  

C&C, R&R and any other derivation there of including flames will be appreciated.  

"**Lust**" is the first of three Weiss Kreuz stories that are determinedly yaoi (that means homosexual relationships for the initiated) and (unfortunately, since I was aiming for a PWP at the start and failed miserable) plot-driven.  For those who are interested, "**Do you believe in sin?**" is a short background story to this series - however, you don't need to read it to understand anything that happens.  

**Extra Note**: Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! In partial thanks for the wonderful reviews and responses I've received this year from all of you in the Weiss fandom (and also because **Briar Rose** and I wanted all of your opinions) I give you '**Reflected**' _and_ '**Skewed**'. 

The reason for this? Well - **Briar Rose** pointed some pertinent facts out to me as I struggled through this chapter - and the end result was that by the time I finished, there were two versions ('**Reflected**', the actual chapter, and '**Skewed**' the alternate version).

In the end, we decided '**Reflected**' was the way to go - but we want to know which chapter _you_ prefer.  The differences start about halfway through '**Skewed**' (but I've attached the full chapter anyway - just to give it the right 'feel').

With thanks to the reviewers: **kyou**,** ramenmaiden**,** nekojita**,** yochan**,** antigone**,** cabbit**,** Opus**,** Laura B**,** Race Ulfson**,** elf-bi-dragon**,** toni**,** nya **and **nynki**

And with eternal gratitude, praise and much worship to **Briar Rose** who once more did the impossible in getting this chapter (my first ever PWP) polished to a high sparkle that not only saw Youji and Aya in compromising positions but managed to ensure it remained in-character and plot-orientated.  ^_^

**Author's Note** after chapter.  Enjoy!

=====================================================================

=================================================================

Reflected

=================================================================

_Here, there is no form._

_Here, there is no sound._

_Here, even sight is superfluous; there is nothing here, for here _is _nothing.  _

_And 'nothing' is white; from horizon to horizon, there is an endless white._

      I recognise it; created it during my childhood to stop the nightmares (or hide from them, there is no true difference).  

    My dreams of Asuka inevitably end up here - in the white that holds no shadows and no memories.

      This time, it is different.

      _He is standing there, clothed in white.  In the light, his hair is a startling blood red that scatters across the paleness of his skin._

_    His eyes are violet._

      The whiteness - the nothing - had never contained anybody but me before.  But Aya is there, staring down at me.

      As he is in real life, so is he in my dreams.  Incomprehensible.  Enigma.

_      Aya._

      "Youji."  His voice, lower than mine (and why now, in my dream, did that finally strike me as strange that Aya - the sexless swordsman, the violent florist - should have a voice made for husky seduction) disturbs the silence.

      He circles me; I look down and realise that where there had been nothing before now contains a bed.  

    I am on a bed.  Sprawled on the covers.  White covers.

      I am dreaming; Aya is in my dream.

      Aya is in my dream – which is impossible because nobody can 

share dreams.  So I am dreaming of Aya.  

    In my dream.  

    Aya.

    _Aya _in my _dream_.

_Life is good._  I didn't stop myself from grinning.  _I love lucid dreaming._  

The real Aya might remain an inscrutable stranger with as much interest in my body as Mr Yokino from down the street (straighter than Ken-Ken; complete with fanaticism of a sport that involves a lot of running in hot weather – cricket in his case) - but in my dreams at least, he will be whatever I want him to be.  _Hello little demon Aya._

    Well – one hopes not _too _little.

      And that thought at least deserves a snicker; I snicker.

      He frowns – and that is not part of the script.  I rise from the bed, elbows sliding against sheets with the sensation of velvet but the smoothness of silk (it's a dream – why sweat the impossibilities?).  Funny how little details like that can catch the attention at inopportune moments.

   "I look better close up."  It comes out exactly the way I want it to – a purr that reminds me of sleazy pick up lines and sex on wheels.  

    Which might not be particularly smooth (or frankly of credible use to anybody older than eighteen) but this is _my_ dream and if I want it to be smutty and without redeeming qualities, then it shall be.

      Aya is watching me, eyes narrowed.  That is not part of the script either.  

    Well okay so it is exactly what Aya would do if I had spouted a clichéd line while sprawled on a bed (before or after he reaches for his katana makes no difference).  But this is my dream damn it!

      I frown; "We should be naked."

He arches an eyebrow, "Why?"

   "Because sex is better when people are naked."  (Actually that isn't strictly true – but before I advance to the double-fudge and nuts, I'd like to see what vanilla sex with Aya is like) 

   "Are we going to have sex?"  he's amused – that is part of the script (or at least so out of character for Aya that it must be something my sub-conscious created).

   "Yes."

   "You sound certain."  

   "It's my dream."  (Why did I suddenly sound petulant?)

   "And that makes you certain?"

   "Of course!"  I was being petulant – nothing like having your dirty dream stop before mutual nudity is achieved for a _debate_, "This is my dream – and we should be naked and having sex."  I pause – Aya is still staring at me, "Now would be a good time to start."  He is still staring at me – and this is getting ridiculous, "You can get naked now."

_      The endless expanse of white is gone._

I am naked – I can feel the smooth sensation of unreal sheets, cold beneath my back.  

    Aya is kneeling over me – knees on either side of my arms (and so close that if I shifted my hand up, I would brush against his inner thigh – and that is closer to Aya than I ever thought I'd get).  _I love lucid dreaming._

    "You think you're in control."  

   "I am in control."  I retort, "Although by the way – I am definitely the dominant in this relationship so you should be on the bottom."   

    "You're not in control."  

Funny how the situation should have been erotic (or at least vaguely sexual) but all I felt was a obscure sense of irritation that my dream-Aya wasn't doing what I wanted him to do (which was strip and stay still while I experimented on exactly how far I had to go to make Snippy the Snow-Man melt).  

   "It's my dream.  If I'm not in control then who is?"  I snap.

   "I am."  The whisper shivers up and down my spine and sparks in my brain and between my legs.

    And its suddenly very erotic that he's kneeling over me fully dressed while I am naked.

    He looks down at my sudden erection, "And I will remain in control – _You~ji_."  He whispers, "Won't I?" He shifts slightly, lifting one hand (_No – oh god – he isn't – he will – I love lucid dreams -!_) and gently taps my cock, "Won't I?"  

The words slip out – straight from my brain and id to my mouth: "_Yes_."

    And one sentence repeats in my head: _Please don't let me wake up._

      Aya smirks, and grasps my erection in a not-so-gentle fist.  I nudge my hips, trying to move into the motion – or perhaps out of it.  Or perhaps in and out of it – this dirty dream wasn't moving as fast as I wanted it to.  He is holding me flat against the bed with one hand - calluses chaff gently against my stomach.  

    He stares; begins tracing my cock with light fingers – as if attempting to memorise it by sensation.  I can't complain; my body arches upwards despite the hand holding me in place.  

    "Don't move."  He had leaned forward, hair tickling my face (_Please don't let me wake up._), "Don't make a sound." Eyes unreadable, "Or I will stop you."

I can't stop the snort: "Yeah – this is my dream.  You can't stop me –"

     One blink – and another – and I find my legs spread, tethered to the sides of a bed I barely knew I was on.  I shift – and realise my arms are stretched over my head, pulling my body taunt.  He is still kneeling over me.

   "I can."  Aya whispered, and I can feel long, slender fingers playing with my (decidedly neglected) erection before abandoning it (_damn!_) and squeezing my balls gently, "I can."  The last a breath of sound.

    I blink.  Aya's leaned back, head tilted to one side.  My erection waves, unnoticed by him, as he stares thoughtfully over my head to something else.  

   I try to arch slightly – bring back to his attention the important things in this dream – and find that I can't.  

   "You spoke."  Aya said suddenly, "You shouldn't."

That gives me pause, I smirk up at him, "Come now Aya - after all this time working together you should know that saying what I want is what Youji Kudou is all about."  I quip.

   "Is it?"  the words are whispered, I hear them and narrow my eyes.

   "You can't stop me."

      He is leaning on me - pressed against me, hip to chest.  

    I squirm - material slides against my skin, catching on my nipples before moving on.  The moan I hear is my own - and when I open eyes I never realised I had closed, I find myself staring into his eyes.

    And the world suddenly narrows to violet.  _Violet._

    _And roses.  .  ._

    "Be quiet."  Aya whispers, lips so close to mine that I can feel the puff of warmth as he speaks.

   "Why should I?"  I breath out - more because answering seemed expected than because I wanted to speak.  Or think.  (_Think? With all the blood rushing southward?_)

    He kisses me.  Teeth scraping against my lower lip, breath shared - saliva swapped (okay maybe not the last but I have hopes).  It's a kiss.  _From _Aya.  One that I didn't have to initiate.  In a sexual setting.  _Please don't let me wake up._  

    He leans back - half kneeling, half sitting on my stomach (_Just a little lower.  .  ._) and stares down.  He isn't smiling - but the satisfaction rolls off him.

   I cough. 

   Aya frowns.

   "Oh come on Aya."  I smirk, "Kissing me to make me stay quiet? What have you been doing? Reading romance novels in the supermarket check out line?"  He arches an eyebrow and I find myself adding defensively: "Not that I do that.  Read romances in the -"  I glare, "Can we get to the sex now?"  

    I wriggle slightly - and find that I can barely move with his weight on me.

    And now, Aya is smirking.  Or at least his eyes have moved up a notch from glare-of-death to vague amusement (or less than homicidal-wrath-approaches, which is the usual default).  

   "So kissing won't keep you quiet?"  he shifts slightly to his knees, cloth of pants brushing against the tip of my erection - my breath catches, I arch and catch nothing but air as he shifts downwards till he is slightly above my chest, still watching me.

   _Please don't let me wake up._

   Aya is still watching me, eyes unreadable (at least to me - I've never been good at understanding significant glares) before he lowers his head and gently presses his lips against the skin in the shadow of my neck.  I feel warmth - a puff of air.  A slide of wet - scrape of teeth.  He sucks, I arch - catch air and moan.

   "Be quiet."

    He moves, tongue tracing a path - around my nipples (_Damn it!_), over stomach muscles that clench and unclench as he pauses briefly to suck (_Oh - oh - oh -_) and continues down.  _He - oh god - he is -_  

   _Please - please - please - don't let me wake up.  I promise I'll be good for the rest of my life if I just don't wake up -_

    Down to my hips, and pauses.  (_Argh!_)

   "Kissing won't keep you quiet."  

   "I'll keep my mouth shut."  I swear immediately, body tensed and arched upwards in supplication, "_Please_ Aya -"       

    He leans back, "Better."  A pause, "Much better.  I like you this way, _You~ji_."  A hand traces my cheek (why in hell did I imagine up a cock-tease Aya?!), sliding down my neck and chest.  It pauses (_Argh!_), pinching slightly at the nipples before moving down to stop at my stomach, "Stretched out.  Silent.  Unable to move."  The words tinged with pleasure as he paused, "Helpless."

   "I'm only keeping quiet if you do something."  I warn, nudging my hips, "Come _on_ A~ya -!"  

My erection rasps against the cloth of his pants as I arch; the moan escapes without conscious thought.  And while there is a certain lack of sophistication involved in coming by humping your partner's leg - at this stage, I'll try _anything._

    "_Please_ -"

    And finally - _Finally!_ - he shifts again, moving back down and gently presses his mouth against the very tip of my (extremely ignored) cock.  I moan and arch - and he -

      "Wake up."

Followed by three thumps.  

      And I am awake, staring wide eyed with shock at Aya - standing far above me - then at the three books lying beside my head.

   I'm awake.

   With a hard on that would be making a tent in my blankets were they not twisted around my body (thankfully shielding my obvious state from the sword-wielding team-mate).  

   "Ah -"  my not-very-articulate response I can blame completely on the non-existent changeover between dreaming and waking.  

    And the erection.  _Oh God -_

Aya turns and stalks out of the room.

I roll over and stare at the books - _Textbooks._  The titles are vaguely familiar - from the time I accidentally spilled coffee and vodka (don't ask) over Omi's school bag and had to replace his school books.  _Philosophy.  Psychology and the Physiology of the Brain.  Anatomy of the Human Body._  

    My current assumption is that Aya wants me to read the textbooks.  Why and for what reason is - as usual - beyond the comprehension of any person not named 'Aya Fujimiya'.  

    I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling.  

    There are no thoughts to be had when the focus of your wet dream wakes you up just before he's about to give you a blow job.  There are however a few words.

They are: _Fuck.  Shit.  _And - _I need to kill somebody._  

      But first: I'm going to go take care of some things in the bathroom.  _I hate Aya.  I really do._  I mean - yes, being Weiss has interfered with my sex life on occasion, but honestly, when a man can't have a dirty dream without interruption at inappropriate moments there's something extremely _wrong _with the world.

=================================================================

**And now - the alternate version of '**Reflected**' - '**Skewed**'.  If you don't understand what '**Skewed**' is about, go back and read the '**Extra Note**' at the top of this chapter.  **

**TR**

=================================================================

Skewed

=================================================================

_Here, there is no form._

_Here, there is no sound._

_Here, even sight is superfluous; there is nothing here, for here _is _nothing.  _

_And 'nothing' is white; from horizon to horizon, there is an endless white._

      I recognise it; created it during my childhood to stop the nightmares (or hide from them, there is no true difference).  

    My dreams of Asuka inevitably end up here - in the white that holds no shadows and no memories.

      This time, it is different.

      _He is standing there, clothed in white.  In the light, his hair is a startling blood red that scatters across the paleness of his skin._

_    His eyes are violet._

      The whiteness - the nothing - had never contained anybody but me before.  But Aya is there, staring down at me.

      As he is in real life, so is he in my dreams.  Incomprehensible.  Enigma.

_      Aya._

      "Youji."  His voice, lower than mine (and why now, in my dream, did that finally strike me as strange that Aya - the sexless swordsman, the violent florist - should have a voice made for husky seduction) disturbs the silence.

      He circles me; I look down and realise that where there had been nothing before now contains a bed.  

    I am on a bed.  Sprawled on the covers.  White covers.

      I am dreaming; Aya is in my dream.

      Aya is in my dream – which is impossible because nobody can 

share dreams.  So I am dreaming of Aya.  

    In my dream.  

    Aya.

    _Aya _in my _dream_.

_Life is good._  I didn't stop myself from grinning.  _I love lucid dreaming._  

The real Aya might remain an inscrutable stranger with as much interest in my body as Mr Yokino from down the street (straighter than Ken-Ken; complete with fanaticism of a sport that involves a lot of running in hot weather – cricket in his case) - but in my dreams at least, he will be whatever I want him to be.  _Hello little demon Aya._

    Well – one hopes not _too _little.

      And that thought at least deserves a snicker; I snicker.

      He frowns – and that is not part of the script.  I rise from the bed, elbows sliding against sheets with the sensation of velvet but the smoothness of silk (it's a dream – why sweat the impossibilities?).  Funny how little details like that can catch the attention at inopptunate moments.

   "I look better close up."  It comes out exactly the way I want it to – a purr that reminds me of sleazy pick up lines and sex on wheels.  

    Which might not be particularly smooth (or frankly of credible use to anybody older than eighteen) but this is _my_ dream and if I want it to be smutty and without redeeming qualities, then it shall be.

      Aya is watching me, eyes narrowed.  That is not part of the script either.  

    Well okay so it is exactly what Aya would do if I had spouted a clichéd line while sprawled on a bed (before or after he reaches for his katana makes no difference).  But this is my dream damn it!

      I frown; "We should be naked."

He arches an eyebrow, "Why?"

   "Because sex is better when people are naked."  (Actually that isn't strictly true – but before I advance to the double-fudge and nuts, I'd like to see what vanilla sex with Aya is like) 

   "Are we going to have sex?"  he's amused – that is part of the script (or at least so out of character for Aya that it must be something my sub-conscious created).

   "Yes."

   "You sound certain."  

   "It's my dream."  (Why did I suddenly sound petulant?)

   "And that makes you certain?"

   "Of course!"  I was being petulant – nothing like having your dirty dream stop before mutual nudity is achieved for a _debate_, "This is my dream – and we should be naked and having sex."  I pause – Aya is still staring at me, "Now would be a good time to start."  He is still staring at me – and this is getting ridiculous, "You can get naked now."

_      The endless expanse of white is gone._

I am naked – I can feel the smooth sensation of unreal sheets, cold beneath my back.  

    Aya is kneeling over me – knees on either side of my arms (and so close that if I shifted my hand up, I would brush against his inner thigh – and that is closer to Aya than I ever thought I'd get).  _I love lucid dreaming._

    "You think you're in control."  

   "I am in control."  I retort, "Although by the way – I am definitely the dominant in this relationship so you should be on the bottom."   

    "You're not in control."  

Funny how the situation should have been erotic (or at least vaguely sexual) but all I felt was a obscure sense of irritation that my dream-Aya wasn't doing what I wanted him to do (which was strip and stay still while I experimented on exactly how far I had to go to make Snippy the Snow-Man melt).  

   "It's my dream.  If I'm not in control then who is?"  I snap.

   "I am."  The whisper shivers up and down my spine and sparks in my brain and between my legs.

    And its suddenly very erotic that he's kneeling over me fully dressed while I am naked.

    He looks down at my sudden erection, "And I will remain in control – _You~ji_."  He whispers, "Won't I?" He shifts slightly, lifting one hand (_No – oh god – he isn't – he will – I love lucid dreams -!_) and grasping my cock, "Won't I?"  

The words slip out – straight from my brain and id to my mouth: "_Yes_."

    And one sentence repeats in my head: _Please don't let me wake up._

      Aya smirks, tightening and relaxing his hold on my erection.  I nudge my hips, trying to move into the motion – or perhaps out of it.  Or perhaps in and out of it – this dirty dream wasn't moving as fast as I wanted it to.  He is holding me flat against the bed with one hand; his calluses chaff my skin - it feels.  .  .  _Good_.  

    He stares and I find myself unable to look away from his eyes.  _Violet.  _

    Unseen, his hand moves against my cock - gentle tracing motions as if he is attempting to memorise it by sensation alone.  I can't complain; my body arches upwards despite the hand holding me in place.  

    "Don't move."  He had leaned forward, hair tickling my face (_Please don't let me wake up._), "Don't make a sound." Eyes unreadable, "Or I will stop you."

I can't stop the snort: "Yeah – this is my dream.  You can't stop me –"

     One blink – and another – and I find my legs spread, tethered to the sides of a bed I barely knew I was on.  I shift – and realise my arms are stretched over my head, pulling my body taunt.  He is still kneeling over me.

   "I can."  Aya whispered, and I can feel long, slender fingers playing with my (decidedly neglected) erection before abandoning it (_damn!_) and squeezing my balls gently, "I can."  The last a breath of sound.

    I blink.  Aya's leaned back, head tilted to one side.  My erection waves, unnoticed by him, as he stares thoughtfully over my head to something else.  

   I try to arch slightly – bring back to his attention the important things in this dream – and find that I can't.  

   "You spoke."  Aya said suddenly, "You shouldn't."

That gives me pause, I smirk up at him, "Come now Aya - after all this time working together you should know that saying what I want is what Youji Kudou is all about."  I quip.

   "Is it?"  the words are whispered, I hear them and narrow my eyes.

   "You can't stop me."

      He is leaning on me - pressed against me, hip to chest.  

    I squirm - material slides against my skin, catching on my nipples before moving on.  The moan I hear is my own - and when I open eyes I never realised I had closed, I find myself staring into his eyes.

    And the world suddenly narrows to violet.  _Violet._

    _And roses.  .  ._

    "Be quiet."  Aya whispers, lips so close to mine that I can feel the puff of warmth as he speaks.

   "Why should I?"  I breath out - more because answering seemed expected than because I wanted to speak.  Or think.  (_Think? With all the blood rushing southward?_)

The gag is tight, holding my mouth open - it's cloth.  Of some sort.  Too slick against teeth to be cotton - silk perhaps.  

He leans down, kisses me.  Teeth scrapes against my lower lip, my chin, the hollow of my neck.  I gasp for breath - swallow convulsively - and try to moan.  What escapes is strangled, sound caught by the gag.

    It's a kiss.  _From _Aya.  One that I didn't have to initiate.  In a sexual setting.  _Please don't let me wake up._  

    I feel his pleased smile against the skin of my neck.  _Bastard._

    _Sexy, erotic, control-freak of a bastard._

    He leans back - half kneeling, half sitting on my stomach (_Just a little lower.  .  ._) and stares down.  He isn't smiling - but the satisfaction rolls off him.

   "Mine."  Aya whispers - the words seem to send a jolt down my spine and straight to my frustrated erection, "Do you understand?"

I shake my head, try to speak - and can't.  I glare instead.

    Aya tilts his head to the side, considering - unfazed by my glare (obviously I have had less practise at this particular form of speechless communication).

     Aya shifts slightly to his knees, cloth of pants brushing against the tip of my erection - my breath catches, I arch and catch nothing but air as he shifts downwards till he is slightly above my chest, still watching me.

   _Please don't let me wake up._

   His eyes unreadable (at least to me - I've never been good at understanding significant glares), he lowers his head and gently presses his lips against the skin in the shadow of my neck.  I feel warmth - a puff of air.  A slide of wet - scrape of teeth.  He sucks, I arch - catch air and, unable to moan, pant through the gag instead.

   "Be quiet."

    He moves, tongue tracing a path - around my nipples (_Damn it!_), over stomach muscles that clench and unclench as he pauses briefly to suck (_Oh - oh - oh -_) and continues down.  _He - oh god - he is -_  

   _Please - please - please - don't let me wake up.  I promise I'll be good for the rest of my life if I just don't wake up -_

    Down to my hips, and pauses.  (_Argh!_)

      And suddenly, the gag vanishes.

   "Well?"  the words are low - soft and whispered.    

   "I'll keep my mouth shut."  I swear immediately, body tensed and arched upwards in supplication, "_Please_ Aya -"       

    He leans back, "Better."  A pause, "Much better.  I like you this way, _You~ji_."  A hand traces my cheek (why in hell did I imagine up a cock-tease Aya?!), sliding down my neck and chest.  It pauses (_Argh!_), pinching slightly at the nipples before moving down to stop at my stomach, "Stretched out.  Silent.  Unable to move."  The words tinged with pleasure as he paused, "Helpless."

   "I'm only keeping quiet if you do something."  I warn, nudging my hips, "Come _on_ A~ya -!"  

My erection rasps against the cloth of his pants as I arch; the moan escapes without conscious thought.  And while there is a certain lack of sophistication involved in coming by humping your partner's leg - at this stage, I'll try _anything._

    "_Please_ -"

    And finally - _Finally!_ - he shifts again, moving back down and gently presses his mouth against the very tip of my (extremely ignored) cock.  I moan and arch - and he -

      "Wake up."

Followed by three thumps.  

      And I am awake, staring wide eyed with shock at Aya - standing far above me - then at the three books lying beside my head.

   I'm awake.

   With a hard on that would be making a tent in my blankets were they not twisted around my body (thankfully shielding my obvious state from the sword-wielding team-mate).  

   "Ah -"  my not-very-articulate response I can blame completely on the non-existent changeover between dreaming and waking.  

    And the erection.  _Oh God -_

Aya turns and stalks out of the room.

I roll over and stare at the books - _Textbooks._  The titles are vaguely familiar - from the time I accidentally spilled coffee and vodka (don't ask) over Omi's school bag and had to replace his school books.  _Philosophy.  Psychology and the Physiology of the Brain.  Anatomy of the Human Body._  

    My current assumption is that Aya wants me to read the textbooks.  Why and for what reason is - as usual - beyond the comprehension of any person not named 'Aya Fujimiya'.  

    I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling.  

    There are no thoughts to be had when the focus of your wet dream wakes you up just before he's about to give you a blow job.  There are however a few words.

They are: _Fuck.  Shit.  _And - _I need to kill somebody._  

      But first: I'm going to go take care of some things in the bathroom.  _I hate Aya.  I really do._  I mean - yes, being Weiss has interfered with my sex life on occasion, but honestly, when a man can't have a dirty dream without interruption at inappropriate moments there's something extremely _wrong _with the world.

=====================================================================

**Author's Note**: Two PWPs for the price of one chapter.  ^_^

Now tell me and Briar Rose whether you prefered '**Skewed**' or '**Reflected**' - and more importantly, _why_ ^_^ (edited 4/Jan/2003) And also - **Briar Rose** and I would also like to know which character you most strongly identify with.  ~grins~ 

TR


End file.
